NOT LIKE YOU (The Simian Forest Saga)
by littlexblue
Summary: How long had it been since Krissa had seen another person? She's hardly even remembers. All she knows is to hunt, and fight tooth and nail until her time on this cruel speck of dirt is up. Something watches her from the dark, from the trees, and she knows it. She is alone, she is frightened. There is nowhere to go. Nobody to run to. There is nothing left.
1. The Girl (Prologue)

**Author's Note:** **Hello! Welcome to _The Simian Forest!_ There will be more to come soon, I promise. For future reference:**

" **Sign language (ASL).** "

"Speaking."

* * *

Dawn had passed. The sky was no longer milky and speckled with smears of golden-kissed clouds. Dreary grey puffs of precipitation dripped chilly sheets of rain, the cold water causing the young woman no worry as it dripped down her bronze skin. Krissa stopped to lace up her boot, her senses on high alert nonetheless. Since the apes had found the lake, her home had been completely invaded, and she had the unfortunate luck of having to go into hiding. She was unsure of how she had exactly done it, but somehow Krissa had managed to stay hidden from the large herd of primates, leaving her only a small amount of time to hunt and search for food. Thanking her lucky stars, she had managed to create a daily routine in order to avoid any sort of suspicious behavior, as well as tactical escape routes- although they were still a work in progress.

Having little luck with scavenging the shore this morning, she would have to resort to eating the jerky meat she had stored away. The young woman trudged uphill through the fronds and roots, taking to the upper slope. She walked along the edge, bow in hand, her quiver gently knocking against her back as she walked. She could feel her legs tremble as she walked; she had a low blood sugar, and thus Krissa knew that she needed to find sustenance soon. Krissa ran a hand through her disheveled, damp dark hair and peered skyward with curiosity, eyes narrowed against the harsh grey light.

One she returned to the bottom of the ditch, she took the path that lead her for another hour's walk. Krissa finally had returned to her little slope, slipping down the muddy surface. Fronds shifted and the soft hush of rain filled the entire simian forest. The dank scent of damp earth rose to her nostrils as she approached the small outcrop of rock, and the cave. There lay a log for sitting, an old camouflage blanket, and a small ring of stones for a fire. Inside the cave was a sleeping bag, a pillow, and a flashlight; the entire right wall was covered in dried flowers and herbs, as well as accompanied by a first-aid kit.

Krissa settled down on the log with a huff. Not far from her small, partially crater-like camp ran a stream which wound around the edge of the strange dip in the ground. The soft, spongy surface of the log felt homey and familiar beneath her dirt-encrusted fingers.

Relieving herself of her bow and quiver, she set it aside and took a moment to inspect her surroundings. Nothing had changed while she had been gone, thankfully. The babbling of the brook next to her brought her peace. From the satchel upon her side, she retrieved a smooth stone, which she had collected from the pebbly beach during her scavenging. Kris took to the cave, standing up upon sore legs. It had become something she was accustomed to now; reminding her that she was still alive. She knelt and took out her buck knife, beginning to chip away in order to create an arrow head. Krissa had successfully developed her own form of weaponry, and to her surprise, they worked very well! It had only taken, what? Two, three years?

Right, she was twenty-one now... What month was it now? July? August? What time? An hour or two after noon? Krissa's busy hands slowly stilled as she began to ponder further. Her chest was beginning to feel hollow; her tongue passed over her dry lips. Setting down the little task at hand, she reached into her back pocket and reached for the polished stone her father had found for her... at least, when he had still been alive. After catching the virus a second time, the disease had been far too much for him. He had gone insane, and attempted to kill Krissa. She had been forced to put him down.

His ring still hung around her neck, as well as the last arrowhead he had created in order to teach her the basic steps of crafting weapons. It had been small enough to attach to a piece of double-wound twine. Krissa had smoothed it down, and now kept the piece of slate around her neck in his memory, right next to both of her parents' wedding rings. A solemn sigh escaped her and she shook her head. No, she couldn't think of this now.

Where was the rock? She felt around, concerned now. Then, she began to panic. Where was it? Krissa poked around further, only to find that there was a decent-sized hole within it. Damnit, she must have torn her pocket while hopping over large pieces of driftwood at the south-end of the beach. "Fuck," she whispered, her chest tightening painfully. She was such an idiot! Krissa decided it would be best to search for it tomorrow...

The young woman reached inside of the cave and picked up her dirty clothes from the week before.

Ducking out from beneath the cave, she crossed over toward the brook and went to knelt next to it. Unfortunately, one of the goddamn pieces of clothing dropped on her way, and she had to turn back. Placing the heap down, she scoffed and crossed back up the slight slope, in order to fetch the stray shirt. The young woman knelt and picked it up, the worn fabric loose within her hand. She studied it for any sort of damage, relieved when she saw that it was perfectly fine. _Christ, Krissa. You're always so jumpy_ , she thought. The femme rose to her feet, dusting off the shirt, and then began to turn to return to the bottom of the slope.

She paused, frowning. Krissa craned her neck and peered over her shoulder, finding something rather remarkable upon the top of the mossy outcrop just behind her. All of her dirty laundry, the arrowhead and her knife were now resting together on the drenched surface. She swallowed hard, her heart beginning to speed up. Krissa glanced around, completely on edge now; whoever it had been was most likely still nearby... but when she cautiously scanned her surroundings, she came up with nothing. They had vanished without a trace.

Hastily, the young woman crept over to the pile and began to pick up item by item. After she had finished, she allowed her hazel-green eyes to wash over everything once again. Something caught her eye. Settled within the ashes of the pit in the center of the camp was the stone she had lost at the beach. Relief washed over her, yet adrenaline kicked in. She quickly took the stone from the soot, apathetic to the dark smears of char upon her hands at this point; she then jogged down the slope and knelt by the river. She took only a few minutes to wash each one, doing a quick job rather than a thorough one.

Attempting to calm down, she scooped up a handful of water and splashed her sun-kissed complexion. Krissa then looked upon herself. Her wide green eyes stared out from taut bronze skin; freckles sprayed her nose and cheekbones. A scar ran down the side of her cheek, and her dark wavy hair, once cut, was tied back. Her raven locks had once been long and flowing, but after the apocalypse, her father had always taught her to keep her hair up off her shoulders in a choppy, messy cut. She looked like a rugged version of her mother, and she thanked god for that, for every time she looked at her reflection... she would see her. Krissa picked up her damp clothes and carried them back to the camp.

She needed to distract herself from the events. Perhaps her mind had simply tricked her into thinking she had gone all the way down the hill and back? Maybe she had simply brought the clothes with her and put them there? Well, then how could her favorite stone have gotten placed in the fire-pit? How could the arrowhead have made it to the same place; she distinctly remembered setting it down. Krissa took a deep breath. She would just have to keep an eye out from now on... vigilance was key- it she caught them in the act, she could kill them and end this mischief before it got out of hand.

* * *

Kris woke up the next morning with a jolt, her father's crossbow within her hands feeling heavy as the butt of the weapon pressed into her gut. She shifted, grumbling and sighed, shutting her eyes further. It was raining again, as if it hadn't stopped all night. Birds chirruped and shrieked and chattered up above her, completely unaware of the struggling going on below. Earth had become so serene; so peaceful. Now that humans were practically wiped out? It was incredible. She was so happy... Dreamily, she smiled, watching as the rain dripped from the top of the mouth of her little shelter. Wrapped tightly within her sleeping bag, she observed the beautiful before her with admiration.

After a nice long stretch, she sighed and paused before unzipping the bedding and removing herself from its shell. Her eyes adjusted to the light as she went outside, the brightness a bit harsh for her sleep-deprived eyes. Krissa stretched and rolled her shoulders. Extending her arms, she laced her fingers together and turned her palms outward, her body going rigid as she rose up onto her tiptoes. Her body vibrated in a delicious strain, waking her muscles up from their drowsy state.

The young woman then knelt, beginning to perform a series of stretches before shifting into full push-ups. She proceeded until her arms and legs burned, and her core was stiff. There was the sudden overwhelming urge to look up, and thus the young woman froze. Her entire body turned rigid, holding herself up with great strife to a point where her entire being began to tremble.

Was she losing her mind just as her father had? Slowly, she shifted to her knees, then brought her head up as cautiously as possible. What she saw nearly gave her a heart attack. Krissa's eyes were as wide as dinner plates as she looked upon a rather large simian, spear in one hand, the other rested upon it's thigh. Its eyes- very human, were dark amber, rusty tones highlighted in the sun that was beginning to leak through the trees.


	2. The Pot (Chapter I)

The next few days had been difficult. Krissa was constantly being visited by this creature to a point where she wondered if it would be more reasonable to simply move her camp... Perhaps he was watching her for informative purposes, perhaps he was he was just a curious animal. Either way, she understood that the apes were intelligent, primitive animals- unlike those she had briefly viewed from behind a thick layer of glass at a sanctuary. He was always so silent, observing her closely with clever tawny depths, cognac tones clear whenever they caught the sunshine. Krissa's fears had ultimately come true when he would return at some point during the day (be it morning or afternoon) to keep a close eye on her. At the very beginning of these occurrences, she had noticed how weary and unsure he had been, watching from a distance off in the bush or from up in a tree. It had been a reflection of herself, as both of them appeared to feel just as timid as the other. Nonetheless, Krissa understood that he was just as dangerous as the rest of his tribe, and whenever she would feel as if she could perhaps attempt to approach him, her own anxiety would kick her in the ass. He was a wild animal; no more, no less.

Uncomfortable with being constantly observed like an animal in a cage, she began to drape blankets over the mouth of her little den, just in case he attempted to return while she was asleep. Referring to him as " _him_ " in her mind felt alien at times. Occasionally she would wonder if he had a name, but given she knew only of Caesar and the stories of the massacre, she understood that that little fact of information didn't matter. Engaging in any sort of intelligent communication with these creatures was impossible, due to their thirst for human blood... or so her father had taught her. Krissa was just finishing her breakfast when the rustling of the leaves above alerted her to his fast approach. At this point, she felt obligated to simply ignore him. It was her best shot at staying alive. If she ignored him, hopefully he would lose interest. Her paranoia always told her otherwise. It wasn't as if she were trying to act as if she were completely ignorant of his presence- Krissa's own anxiety kept her alert the entire time. It was simply feigning such things... after all, he was simply an ape.

The thud and hoarse pant escaping the male brought her little interest, although her heart hammered in her chest like a caged bird. He was _really_ close compared to how he had been for the past few days. Krissa carried her paper plate to the bag of garbage she had been collecting lately. A few Crush cans and water bottles would make a good trip-wire alarm in case any sort of creature would have the nerve to creep into her makeshift camp. Krissa simply began to head for the moss-choked cave she called her home and began to pick out a few lines of twine she had managed to salvage from the community lost to the wrath of the Ape Tribe so long ago. Krissa settled herself on the damp earth, and began to punch holes in the aluminum and plastic surfaces so she could string the twine through. Her eyes focused on the task at hand, Krissa didn't seem to notice that the creature had decided to slide down next to her, settled a few feet away and silently observing her. Slowly, he shuffled closer and then inquisitively tugged at one of the bottles. Startled, Krissa grunted and met his gaze, anger flashing behind her eyes.

The ape seemed to cackle at that, a few grunts escaping his throat. He did it again, only for the twine to snap. Krissa, beyond irritated, grumbled and picked up the severed end, tying them together. "That was _rude_ ," she ended up saying, the words that left her mouth a surprise to her. For a minute it seemed as though she were in the presence of a child needing to be scorned for it's behavior... boy, this was one _big_ kid. Swallowing, she hoped that he wouldn't be encouraged. Eventually the ape became bored with her and began to look at the pot over the fire, the water heating up in order for her to be able to safely drink it. Reaching forward with a look of disgruntlement, he began to wrap his hand around the metal handle. Noticing this, Krissa was just about to open her mouth and warn him, but was too little to late. He drew back with a shriek due to the fact that it had probably burnt his hand. Shaking his mit, as if in pain, his other hand began to make odd movements. It took her a moment to recognize, but when she finally did, she was speechless. These animals used sign language. He was talking to himself!

When her mother had still been alive, she had given her lessons in sign, seeing as it would help her in her future. It seemed to have been true after all these years of not believing her. Sure, there had been an odd occasion where she used it at work, but never had she really had a full conversation with someone deaf or even mute. Wait, what was she _thinking_?! She couldn't try and _communicate_ with this animal! There was no way she could entice him even more- and even if she tried, he might just kill her for being too smart or... something. Krissa averted her eyes as the creature crossed over to her, now favoring his hand. _If these monkeys are smart enough to use sign language, then why wasn't he smart enough not to touch something hot?_ wondered the bronze flower. The greyish brute decided it would be best to try and hobble down toward the river, and rest his burn in the cold depths, which caused her to frown. She couldn't help but feel sorry for him as he walked so pathetically.

Krissa's instincts couldn't help but identify this ape as a human. They stood upright, walking like a man at times, and apparently even _signed_. They had the intelligence similar to that of human beings, and yet somehow could act as dumb as _mud_ at times. The disease had most likely multiplied by now and evolved to change man's brain, given how it had affected her father so differently after he had managed to fight off the original virus. Shouldn't it be making their brains smarter? The ape was on its way back up the hill when his endless dark cognac eyes met her own hazel-green set. She flinched, looking away and down at the bottles, refusing to stare any further. She didn't want him to feel as though she were challenging him or whatever. There was a grunt from the animal as it ventured very close to her, it's paw extending to her, it's spear being laid down. Her eyes turned up on their own, and her heart nearly exploded. The skin on his hand was blistering now, which caused a twinge of sympathy to tug at her heart.

It was as if he were trying to make her feel bad, deliberately for leaving the item unattended and letting him touch it. It wasn't her fault! Nonetheless, her attention traveled to the inside of her cave, her mind reaching toward the list of supplies she remembered she had within her first-aid kit. The creature collected his spear and used it to balance himself, his injured paw hanging as it dangled over his knee. Was this amusing to him? The ape began to move away once again. Bringing her head up, she looked over at him; he sat there, spear's dangerously sharp point settled to point skyward, his eyes studying the burn upon his hand. Something dripped from his appendage, which surprised her. Had he been attempting to close some sort of wound? Nerves began to make her legs weak, but instead, she bucked up. Maybe he would have killed her by now if he had wanted to to begin with. "Hey..." she said softly, her voice coming out in a quivering murmur. It was as if she were too scared to summon up the strength to even create sound from her throat. The animal's head turned, clearly a bit startled that she had said something.

After a while of eye-contact, she managed to muster up the courage to sign, ' **Hurt**?' The animal's shoulders visibly tensed and his grip tightened around his spear. Had she been wrong? A heavy silence filled the gap. Following a few moments of relentless staring, the animal's hand twitched. ' **Yes** ,' was his reply. Her heart hammered in her chest; he had actually answered her! ' **You know sign**?' A grunt rasped in his throat, as if speaking along with the movements his hands were making. Krissa felt as if her entire world was erupting. Her heart trembled and she nodded, unsure of where this might go. ' **Need help**?' The ape's teeth bared and he let out an angry bark, rising up a little higher in order to make himself look threatening. ' **Why trust human? Human is threat to ape life**.' Immediately terrified, she signed an apology, shuffling onto her knees and scrambling back.

' **I only want to help** ,' Krissa protested, bringing her hands into her chest. ' **Not all humans are bad**.' The ape hesitated, remaining in his bristled position. He was agitated, and not only that, but probably felt like he was cornered at the moment... like a wounded animal. Ironic.

"If I try anything, you can kill me..." she finally spoke up, her voice croaking from her throat. It had been a long time since she had spoken to anyone, let alone anything. "I promise." Krissa wasn't quite sure what she had said to upset him, but the ape suddenly let out a series of pant-barks, clearly livid. Backing up further, she covered her head and ducked it between her knees, remaining there like that for a few more moments. Finally, she turned her cranium up, only for her eyes to fall upon empty air. The trees shook and rustled, leaves falling down to earth as the creature made it's exit.

Nestling back into her poncho, she bowed her head once more, her throat tight. She was going to be okay, there was no need to cry. If the ape returned to his tribe and explained to his leader that there was an intelligent being out there, they would most likely see this as a threat, and track her down.

Tomorrow, she would move.

* * *

Krissa seemed to have dozed off as she had settled there, completely stiff. The hush of falling rain was brought to her attention and drew her out of the slumber she had fallen into. She looked out at the trails of rain as it poured off the surface of her shelter, admiring how crystal clear it was. The air smelled damp and the aroma of pine and spruce filled her senses. The sound of a gentle hoot hit the air and she turned her head, curious as to where it was coming from. It took her awhile to process the fact that the ape was now settled _right beside her_ , his hand extended and his eyes settled upon her. They held a dull glimmer. Krissa sprawled back, dragged herself away from the creature, terrified by how bold he was being once again. As she sat there, panicking, he simply rose and shuffled forward on his good paw, using his knuckles to support his weight. Krissa tried to escape further, only to fall into the wall, trapped. Once he was exactly the same distance away from the young girl, he shoved his hand forward once more, a grunt escaping him.

The girl hesitated, then straightened, peering at his palm. The hand was very human-like, the skin blistered in some parts. She now understood why he had tried to grab the handle, seeing as it would have sealed the wound shut if he had held it for long enough. Blood gleamed as it oozed from the partially-cauterized laceration. Krissa noticed how the gash sliced into the meaty part where his thumb began, and down onto his palm where it swooped and glided up along the side of his smallest finger. Tentatively, she signed, 'What did you cut yourself on?' The ape remained still, simply watching her hand as she gently moved to touched him. Slowly, his teeth bared, which quickly got the point across that he'd rather _not_ be touched and only examined. ' **One second, please,** ' Krissa gestured. Slowly, she positioned herself so she could walk on her hands and knees and carefully made her way to the back of the cave.

She could feel the animal's eyes burning into her as she shuffled around, watching her every move with his dark brown depths. She'd have to take this slow.


	3. The Book (Chapter II)

**Author's Note: _To clarify, Krissa is reading aloud from Shakespeare's Macbeth._**

* * *

Krissa was engrossed within the pages of old English literature, her hungry mind eating up each bit of information that she could. She would often act bits and pieces out as well whilst nose-deep in the story, simply for exercise and her own entertainment. There she stood, atop the mossy log she had used for a bench during the evening, book in on hand; the breeze caressed the skin bared by her crop top and her slender legs clearly exposed as her ragged skirts fluttered in the wind. Her voice was full of feigned terror and anguish. " ** _Blood hath been shed ere now, i' th' olden time, /Ere humane statute purged the gentle weal; /Ay, and since too, murders have been performed /Too terrible for the ear. The time has been…_** " Krissa wandered down along the bark, her toes digging into the spongy surface, heels hovering over her stage. Turning, her hand fell and she began to work off book, having performed this many of times. " _ **That, when the brains were out, the man would die, /And there an end. But now they rise again /With twenty mortal murders on their crowns /And push us from our stools. This is more strange /Than such a murder is.**_ "

For a moment, she stared off into the distance, as if entranced, before finally she snapped out of it. Krissa cleared her throat and blinked furiously, glancing among her companions. Bending down with grace, she picked up herself a stone and raised it as if to make a toast. " _ **I do forget. /Do not muse at me, my most worthy friends. /I have a strange infirmity, which is nothing /To those that know me. Come, love and health to all. /Then I'll sit down. Give me some wine**_ ," she recited. Krissa raised her glass and her gaze washed over the invisible crowd before herself, as if surrounded by attentive men in luxurious robes. " _ **Fill full**_!" Her eyes fell upon the rock. Breaking character, she solemnly peered at the inanimate object which was definitely not a chalice of wine, and her hand lowered. Sighing softly, she tossed the stone off into the ferns and turned, settled down upon the musty log beneath her. The texture was fairly damp from the rain the night before, but she didn't mind. It was cool and welcomed in this summer heat. Thankfully the bugs weren't as bad today. Glancing around her surroundings, she took in her camp, noting that the trip wires hidden off in the foliage were still intact, given how they peered slightly out of the greenery. Her clothes were drying up on the leaf-littered tarp above the shady entrance of her little cave, the fire-pit a pile of ashes and the grass trampled from her constant travel.

Perhaps she needn't move after all…

If she needed, she could flea and return within a day or so. It wouldn't be hard… at least she didn't think so. Krissa knew that this would most likely end badly, just as it had when she was living closer to the city, but she had to take risks at times. The river was both her source of water and food, for if she traveled an hour along it heading west, there was a pool that teemed with fish. Krissa had never been a big fan of fish, but hey.. Food was food. She'd eat anything at this point- more or less. Her hazel eyes delved down and fell upon the pages of her copy of Macbeth, continuing the little performance in her head. The wind seemed to pick up, rustling the trees.

Sunshine dappled along her back and wispy curls, catching her chartreuse eyes as they ghosted over the words. She had always imagined Macbeth's voice as her own father's, her mother's voice as the power-hungry Lady Macbeth, although the character never necessarily caught the leadership and strength she had gained from the woman who had brought her into this world. Swallowing, she flipped the page, her hand gracing to the stone she had treasured so much. Krissa enjoyed how the dips and crevices, as well as it's worn smooth surface felt under her touch, relishing the memories it held. Her hand stilled and she swallowed gently. It wasn't that she was being dragged from her novel by the rather emotional memories.

It was the feeling of being _watched_.

Krissa's attention turned up and she allowed her gaze to wash over the ferns, as she would usually do in this type of situation. It wasn't as if she was expecting to see anything aside from perhaps an inquisitive bird or even a rabbit. As she tilted her head and adjusted herself, she found her eyes landing upon a primitive head and a massive muscular body crouched within the fronds. Jolting, her heart flew up into her nose. She hadn't seen him for days and had thought he had lost interest. At first Krissa's hand released the stone dangling from her neck and slowly traveled to the knife strapped to her exposed thigh. There was a moment as nothing seemed to happen. The simian simply observed her from a way off with his relentless tawny depths. She recalled the nature documentaries where scientists would sit off a ways from the creatures and study their behavior in the name of research, their big bulky cameras seeming to not bother the animals. As she had watched these situations on television, Krissa remembered how fascinating it had all been at the time, seeing how humans could comfortably sit a few feet away from these primates without worry that they would become violent.

She now felt as though _she_ were the animal being given the attention, the chimp's probing eyes latched onto her and tracking her every moment. It would have been stupid of her to attempt any sort of gag in order to distract him or escape his gaze. She would end up just like any other survivor, eventually being mauled or taken prisoner- so any drastic action was completely out of the question.

How long had he been watching her?

Their stare-off was becoming tense and uncomfortable. Her eyes fell away and she turned her head to the side, bringing a hand up to rub her brow. With a sigh, she returned her gaze to her book. For a moment, she simply stared at the words… then, Krissa cleared her throat. She did not look back up. Instead, she took a deep breath. " _ **Avaunt, and quit my sight! Let the earth hide thee**_ ," she began, her once confident voice now unsure. She used her low alto pitch nonetheless, as she usually would for male characters. " _ **Thy bones are marrowless, thy blood is cold. /Thou hast no speculation in those eyes /Which thou dost glare with**_!" A gentle "hoo" escaped the primate not far from her, to which Krissa shot him a glance. His grip shifted on the staff of his spear. Straightening her posture, she took on a more feminine tone, her expression becoming that of superiority and arrogance. " _ **Think of this, good peers, /But as a thing of custom. 'Tis no other; /Only it spoils the pleasure of the time.**_ " Chuffs coiled to her ears as she spoke toward the open air around her. Tucking her leg up beneath the other, she allowed her limb to dangle and her toes to brush the earthy forest floor.

Krissa's expression changed upon a dime, immediately becoming that of aggression. Her eyes flitted up and her pitch dropped once more. " _ **What man dare, I dare. /Approach thou like the rugged Russian bear, The armed rhinoceros, or th' Hyrcan tiger; /Take any shape but that, and my firm nerves /Shall never tremble**_ ," Krissa gestured toward the primate, despite the soft pants he emitted. " _ **Or be alive again, And dare me to the desert with thy sword. /If trembling I inhabit then, protest me /The baby of a girl. Hence, horrible shadow! /Unreal mockery, hence!**_ "Abruptly to check a line, her attention fell, and then her eyes turned up once more. The simian twitched, but then rose and began to plod toward her. " _ **Why so, being gone /Why so, being gone, /I am a man again. Pray you sit still**_!"

Pausing, she turned her attention up, finding the primate even closer than before. She could now see the bone through the cartilage of his ear and the sharpened piece through his septum. A nasty scar was engraved into his shoulder, a smaller one upon his opposite peck. Within ten steps or so, she could have cleared the distance between the two of them. " _ **It will have blood, they say. Blood will have blood. /Stones have been known to move, and trees to speak. /Augurs and understood relations have /By maggot pies and choughs and rooks brought forth /The secret'st man of blood. —What is the night**_?" The spear in his hand was carved from stone and tied to a long stick, frighteningly long and garnished with grooves and notches from wear and ended her performance, bird song filling the gaps between his chuffs.

Krissa eventually shut the book and peered at him with cautious curiosity.

"You're back…" remarked the survivor, allowing what was left of her skirt to fall between her legs and dangle down the log. She brought her legs up then, hugging them to her chest, her bronze skin glowing in the dapples of light. He seemed to stiffen at the sound of her voice, his lip curling and his brow becoming heavier. "I didn't think you would return…"

There was a lull and then his free hand rose. " **Yes** ," he gestured. His movements were fluid and yet almost sharp. " **What of it**?" Krissa watched as his hand then rose to scratch his chin and throat, head careening back listlessly. He appeared to be bored. Reticence fell again. Krissa's brows furrowed. She puzzled for a moment but then shook her head, twisting herself around and turning her back to the simian. Well, if he was going to simply stare and watch her, he could do so on the other side of the log, a few feet away rather than a meter. Krissa slipped from the fallen timbre and padded down along the grass, kneeling and then shuffling down into her hideaway beneath the outcrop. Resting herself back against the cold stone, she allowed her eyes to follow the adventure of an earwig carefully ambling along the opposite wall.

A few pants caused her to frown. She then leaned over and rested upon her side, peering over at the simian as he eyed her hiding spot. "Is something wrong?" she inquired. The chimp did not respond. He tilted his head up slightly and continued to glare at her. Krissa, frustrated now, crawled out from beneath the tarp and slowly rose to her feet. The primate shifted and his shoulders bristled; he then rose to his own hind legs, his spear tilting down toward her. The blade gleamed dully, the shaft aligning with his muscular forearm. Raising her hands, she sidestepped and then eventually found herself sinking down upon the trunk, her chartreuse gaze cautiously glancing between the weapon and the chimp. "I'm not going to _attack_ you, if that's what you think…" she gently murmured. Krissa's hands then lowered and took their place in her lap. " _See_?"

His body remained tilted in a threatening position, his teeth bared. The blade hovered but then eventually raised, the ape taking a shuffling half-step away from her. He kept his eyes on her. "Might as well keep each other company…" she commented, taking on her mother's respectful and reasonable behavior. Bringing a leg up, she held her own ankle and allowed her fingers to gently glide over the moss in front of her. The chimp's steely look of distaste never faltered. She was given no response. Straightening, she looked at him with a tilted head. Okay, so she was settled a good metre or two away from him. What was she supposed to really say? He was an animal. Did he even really understand half of what she was saying? Raising her hands, she licked her dry lips. "What's your name?" she gestured. Again, another beat.

He raised his hand, his fur beginning to flatten. " **S-L-A-T-E**."

" _Slate_ ," she echoed. "Like the stone?"

The creature grunted. " **Yes**."

She proceeded to sign her own name in return. " _Krissa_ ," she then articulated, and then pointed to herself.

Now with introductions out of the way…. There was another uncomfortable silence. Krissa pursed her lips and then hummed. Rising to her feet, she could hear how Slate began to pant and hoot gently, followed by a deep rumble within his throat, and the staff of his spear jabbed her in the back. Krissa stumbled forward with a yelp and, angry, turned to him with a displeased expression. Slate seemed amused by this, sneering and chuffing throatily. Arching a brow, she scrunched up her nose. "I can't understand what you're saying," she remarked sourly, moving out of the way once again as he made for another jab.. "So learn some manners." With her heart quivering, she turned and left him off on his own, rather stunned by her retaliation. Of course she wasn't going to let him bully her. Not if he were simply going to poke fun at her. Finally, the ape seemed to respond. He gave two chuffs. " _Human… manners_ ," he rasped suddenly. His english was broken, but still nonetheless astonished her. Krissa blinked from where she knelt, glued to the spot. "Human manners... _senseless_." Why was she not surprised? Her father had documented this, yes, but to hear it with her own ears...

"Well, it wouldn't kill you to have any," she mumbled back, ignoring him as she now shuffled beneath the cave's walls and reached for the back of supplies in the back. It was nearing lunch time, and she needn't miss a meal. From outside, she heard the ape jump from where he was settled on the log. The survivor's fingers had just graced across the backpack when suddenly a hand came to clasp the hem of her skirt and underwear, the opposite grabbing tightly onto her leg. She was dragged back and thus she let out a cry, twisting around to defend herself. "Let me _go_!" she hissed. Her long leg shot out and collided with the simian's jaw, causing him to release her. A snarl escaped him, shrieks belting from his chest and out into the air. Slate's teeth flashed and his spear lashed through the air, swiping at her face.

Krissa, as quick as she could, slapped the spear away just before it could do any real damage, although she was unable to escape unharmed. The edge of the blade sliced into her sweaty cheek, the next coming to cut her arm open. Quickly, she scrambled back, trying to get away. With trembling hands, she held her bicep tightly and glanced upon the wound, only to realize quickly that the primate was now closing the distance between the two of them. Within seconds she had gone from sprawled upon the forest floor to covering her head with her hands and cowering in a ball. Once again, she remained there with her head curled into her body, praying that it be over quick.

Eventually her muscles began to cramp from waiting and she slowly unfurled herself. Open air surrounded her. Her throat tightened and she cautiously gaped, taking in her surroundings. She was alone once again, leaves fluttering down to the forest floor as the trees still rocked from his dramatic flourish of an exit.


	4. The Secret (Chapter III)

Humans hadn't been seen on this land for ages. It had been suspected that there were small groups scattered here and there, but the sightings were beginning to become more infrequent.. Slate had returned to the tribe's home near the opposite end of the lake, traveling along the pebbles with his spear in hand. He mulled over the item he carried, the pages fluttering in the wind and crumpled in some places. They were so delicate, so how could she even stand using this thing? Never had he seen such a weird way of reading. Sure, he had learned small words before- he had learned the alphabet like any white-tail had in their childhood. These words were clumped together and made no sense. Apes never associated themselves with human things. Slate came to his knuckles and then crouched, leaning back on a large piece of driftwood.

Not far, apes made their new home, up toward the mouth of the river where it bled out into the lake. Salvation had come at last, it seemed, but not without a cost. After Caesar's death, this had left them without a leader, and ergo Rocket had risen to act as a mock king and was playing the role of Cornelius' father, the true heir. The stoic chimp had always lead with a broad fist and a stiff upper lip; this was contrasted greatly by Maurice, Caesar's adviser and the tribe's educator. The orangutan was peaceful and wise, making up for the old chimp's moments of brisk rule. Slate recalled how the orang had called him one day, years ago, when he and his older brother Pine had been butting heads. With these two watching over the young prince, the tribe was able to function without much trouble.

Slate thumbed through the pages, tearing out a few as he went along, nosy as to what exactly had helped her read these weird letters all in their weird formations. His tawny eyes washed over the text in front of him, his eyes narrowing. At first Slate began to piece some things together, his nose scrunching up and his lips parted in thought. That's when a pant broke the silence, the brute turning to none other than his brother. Pine was dark in color, darker than he, a bear's tooth pierced through his left lobe. A long scar ran across his face and his ear was shredded from an assault during a hunt such a long time ago that had nearly gored him senseless. He had almost lost his brother, and although he hated to admit it, he loved him dearly. The stag had made a fantastic feast though. "Brother," he grunted. Pine gripped his sibling's wrist with a strong hand, greeting him firmly. The two knocked their spears together- this was something they had come to develop as their own person greeting. ' **You are out late again. You'll miss dinner**.' The two's parents had never really been spoken about much. Although Pine and Slate had grown up as twins, as they had matured, it was very obvious the difference between them. They were close nonetheless, having many things in common.

Pine's bicolored gaze came to fall upon the book he held, immediately suspicious. ' **Just something I found** ,' signed Slate, shrugging and grunting. ' **Figured Maurice could use it**.'

Pine panted, something close to a chuckle, a smile lacing his elder brother's lips. His mood seemed to improve once more. ' **Thoughful. You aren't the type**.'

Slate snorted and laughed along, bringing his hands to his mouth quickly. ' **Shut up** ,' he signed, then reached out and gave his brother's cheek a shove. Giving the novel a toss, he left it without another thought, splayed out upon the rocky complexion on the beach. The two large males knuckled away toward the other end of the bank, where the entrance to the ape's camp was.

The two traveled for a while, stepping beneath the arch of bending trees and following a path that had been worn down by many apes coming and going from camp. The vegetation grew heavier the deeper they went, eventually coming to a fork in the road. Shuffling to the right through the fronds and bracken, the pair avoided any nettles in their path. Pine had fallen face-first into a whole clump once and his eyes had swollen up like two mushroom heads, so the two brutes preferred to stay clear. Weaving their way through the trees, they began to slowly make their way down a slight slope, the path narrowing yet still showing the way. Slate followed behind Pine, taking in the surroundings as he usually would, unlike his sibling who would simply traipse forward and only forward. The two came to a large boulder standing as proud as a barge in their path, and rounded the corner. Stick-figures hung limply from where they were tied to the lichen, giving an ominous vibe, a few occasional raven's skulls flashing ivory in the spotty sunlight. They found themselves a small clear, a few apes lounging there and conversing around a fire, some perched atop the clumps of smaller rocks. White-tails played, chasing one another bravely through the underbrush.

A sheer face of rock began to expose itself from beneath the earth, crevices and crumbling crags, patchy plants and flowers scattered every now and then adding color. The babble of a river came to the brothers' attention, the proud body of water slimming to a rushing stream as it cut through their camp. The apes crossed through the rambling stream and made their way up the hill as the land ascended once again, passing beneath the arch root. It was a massive redwood whose large trunk had grown in a gnarled passageway where youngin's tended to play among it's embedded cousins. It towered high above, creating the perfect survey point for guards, and a sturdy home for the royal family. Upon the other side was another jutting set of rocky face. Chimps were settled here and there in groups around three separate fires, crackling even despite the previous rain.

Slate allowed his eyes to rise to his right, peering up at the smaller education tree, it's roots crawling out across the hard stone blocking it from the earth, yet still somehow keeping it standing. Massive sharpened logs created a fanning staircase upward until it reached the canopy, spraying out and creating room enough for class above. Observing from the top, he could just see what appeared to be Rocket settled upon the ledge, looking out over the families below.

They were settled right beside the original water source, their location also giving them acres upon acres of land to hunt in. It had taken quite some time to construct fan-trees across the canopy, enough for large families. The territory of the camp panned out greatly, giving lots of room for privacy and sleeping quarters.

Inside the camp, apes turned to greet the newcomers with curious gazes, only to return to chewing or conversing gently. Pine sniffed with interest in the general direction of a small group of bonobos, all female, that leered at the bulky male chimps. Their slender black bodies were resonating hormones; Pine invited the attention whereas Slate was put off. The male fell into step with his brother and passed him, heading for the larger group of primates. Within that ring was a young female, her dark charcoal fur giving her away, along with her dark ashen eyes.

' **Poppy** ,' signed Slate, reaching forward and brushing his sister's crown with his mit. She was very small for her age, her breasts slightly underdeveloped. She had yet to go into heat, but she would surely make a fine mate for any male. The primate pressed her brow to his own and then the three siblings settled down next to one another, joining the group in eating venison. It was excellent meat. ' **Who caught this**?' gestured Pine, glancing across the way as his lips smacked in pleasure.

One of the young males, Sage, glanced up. His grey head bobbed as he signed. ' **Quill did**.' Their heads tilted toward the smaller light brown male to their right. He was pale-faced with a spray of dark auburn across his forearms, his right hand missing a pinkie. Slate pursed his lips and tilted his head up in praise, watching as the soft-looking male's ears flushed. 'I'll have to tell Rocket I'll be taking you on my patrols,' remarked Pine, letting out a gruff rasp. ' **We can find many things. Maybe even humans**.'

A scoff erupted from Poppy. "Humans… gone," she pointed out. "Last seen in forest moons ago." His brother swallowed what he had been working on, shifted and then gave Slate a look, continuing by prodding his brother in the arm with his knuckles. ' **Slate knows all about human stuff. He found one** ,' teased Pine.

Sage and Quill both gawked at him. Alarm shot through Slate in one crashing tidal wave. Had he followed him somehow? No, he couldn't have. He would have heard him. Pine wasn't like that anyway. "Found.. _Book_ ," he corrected, giving his brother a wrinkled nose. ' **It was in the forest, inside old tent. Few miles from camp. Human long since been dead**.'

"Never take from old camp. Could be new," reasoned Poppy, partially scolding him.

' **It was a book, not a human** ,' gestured Slate, repeating himself. Bringing a bone to his teeth, he stripped pieces of grizzle and scraped marrow, feeling it gum up within his sharp canines. It didn't matter that Pine didn't know. He had his secrets too, Slate was sure. It was better off that he was unaware anyway. Pine was the meddling type.

Pine's bicolored eyes flashed, his side-glance chewing into his brother. ' **Smelled like humans. Fresh**.' His hunched shoulders seemed to bulk more. ' **Why pick it up anyway**?'

' **Humans smell bad** ,' gestured Sage, scratching his chin. ' **Human dogs smell worse**.' The momentary tension seemed to defuse upon the younger male's comment. Silence fell over the group, the fire snapping and popping in front of them. The sound of chattering birds up in the canopy filling the lull.

' **Was for Maurice** ,' Pine recalled. ' **That's what you said. Why drop it**?'

The male's tawny eyes studied his brother, shadows cast over his features. ' **Young couldn't read. That's it** ,' Slate responded, allowing the bone to fall to his feet. He nonchalantly sucked at his finger.

"Human things aren't ape," Pine chuffed, a hoot escaping him. The brute's hands moved briskly. ' **You are ape. Act like it.** '

The younger sibling's fingers twitched. ' **Pine** ,' Slate warned, his lip curling slightly. The apes surrounding the two were noticing the hostility, glancing cautiously from one to the other. Pine was older, that was a fact, but he certainly was quick to snap and assume. He also had no filter. Fed up with his brother's bullheadedness, Slate let out a huff and rose to all quads. Pine stood as well, shoulders bristling.

"You walk away. _Where_?" demanded his brother.

"Hail," responded the inky grey male.

"Not stay?"

"Was just book," growled Slate, turning on his heels to face him once again. ' **Learn some manners**.'

Pine barked, his fur bristling along his shoulders as he was making to grab at Slate. There was a snap within the tension, and it crackled, the rest of the group letting out their own pant-hoots, although these of alarm. Before Pine could move any closer to his sibling, Poppy dove between them and forced him to take a step back, a shrill escaping her and Pine almost simultaneously as one threatened the other. The older male swung his arms and then turned, sauntering away, reluctantly withdrawing himself.

' **Just book**?' gestured a completely lost Quill, but Slate had already turned from the group. He wasn't looking to argue anymore.

* * *

 **Author's Note: So we've finally been introduced to Slate's brother and sister, Pine and Poppy.**

 **Thank you for the reviews! I'm super excited to see people taking interest in this story. I'm hoping to post as many chapters as I can, as quickly as I can.**


	5. The Ghost (Chapter IV)

The mouth of the river was babbling as per usual, it's rapids churning against the surface of the jagged rocks beneath its surface. The clouds had returned and were now allowing a fine mist to fall upon the Simian Forest, although the sun peeped through on the rare occasion, bringing a warm touch of honey to the wood. Beach pebbles skittered and clattered beneath Slate's feet, his amber depths washing over the scenery before him. An osprey chattered off in the distance, it's sharp cry drifting far out over the oasis. The brute's leathery mitts flitted, making gestures that were no doubt from his own frustration. He had had nothing but trouble today, what with the human giving him a kick adding onto his eldest sibling's hostility. Pine had been doing better with thinking before he spoke, but it seemed as though he had finally cracked under pressure. Slate's tongue ran over his teeth as he gazed out across the water, the lingering taste of venison still within his mouth.

Birds warbled from up in the trees, enjoying the gentle spray that was slowly drenching the ape's thick inky grey coat. This had not been how Slate had expected his afternoon to go… not at all. "Pine… _stupid mouth_ ," he grumbled to himself, reaching up and scratching at his chin. A great hiss of hot air erupted from his nostrils, his shoulders slumping slightly. Reaching down, Slate picked up a stone and began to roll it in his hand, much like the human he had observed would with that strange pebble of her's. He had been watching her out of his own curiosity, although he attempted to justify it and convince himself it was nothing more than making sure that she was not a threat. It hadn't been until he had decided to get to the bottom of things and approach that he had really fallen into something he hadn't intended to happen. Hearing her speak that morning, watching her face change from time to time along with the tone of her vocals, it seemed as though she would change from one human being to the next. At first he had figured there was something wrong with her, watching her prance along the fallen redwood next to her nest, but as he caught on, Slate had figured out that the girl had simply been reading.

It was like any story an elder would reenact for the rest during feasts… more or less. This girl had some strange way of doing it. Stories of war nearly three years before was still told, to a point where it was practically imprinted into his brain, so what she had been doing was… refreshing to say the least. From a very young age, Pine had influenced Slate greatly. The two had been one in the same, each being the other's shadow; it wasn't until he had had a gun forced into his hands that they had began parting ways. Where Pine held an assault rifle, Slate held a spear. It wasn't ape.

Wasn't ape…

Slate turned his head as he felt his jaw for a moment longer, peering in the direction of the log off to his right. It was settled down the shore, ominously reminding him of where he had left the book. Sniffing in distaste, snout twitching. Slate suddenly pulled himself up to all fours and began to knuckle forward, heading for the log. Perhaps he could toss it in the river and rip the pages out… would the human enjoy finding the sheets littering her camp? Definitely not, but it would be very amusing. She had kicked him, so it was only right that he got back at her. _Right_?

It didn't take him long to clear the distance between him and the log, his gaze washing over the line of greenery not far off, being sure to check for any eyes that could secretly be watching him. With a huff, he rounded the side of the log, his attention falling upon the book that lay splayed upon the wet stones.

The book… where was the _book_? Not only was the worn saffron cover nowhere in sight, but the discarded pages that had created an erratic path as he had plodded along were also missing. Slate let out a few confused pants, his tawny depths searching over the pebbles, although it was clear once he had rounded the other side of the log that the item had vanished. A frustrated growl turned into an explosion of pant-barks, he slammed his powerful fist into the pebbles beneath his feet. Slate couldn't contain the panic and anger beginning to climb up into his chest from deep within his guts. Had Pine returned before he had left the ape's home? It had to have been him; the human could not have tracked him while he had been traveling up through the trees. The pines swayed in the breeze as the rain began to pick up, falling steadily now and creating ripples across the surface of the water. A low rumble of thunder rocked through the clouds above Slate's head.

* * *

It did not take him long to return home, taking the long route there and looping around through the thick undergrowth. Passing through the huts and past the fan-trees, he ducked beneath the cover of the large hanging leaves, crab apples scattered across the dark earth and roots beneath his paws. Picking a few up, he rolled them around within his hands, crouching next to a young bonobo who peered at him curiously from where he rested next to his mother. She was older than he, old enough to remember Caesar for sure, considering his passing had been a mere paw-full of years ago. Her green eyes probed at him, and thus he turned his head. Her facial features were gentle, which brought him a bit of comfort. Woven twigs garnished her crown, asters gently peering in buds and blooms among their withered and entwined surface. This was… Lake's mother, he recalled. Mist, wasn't that her name? A smile graced her lips, which pursed. Snorting irritably, he looked away, clearly more interested in his brother. The large male was settled off a ways across the clear, grooming with a few other female chimps. Spoon, his mate, rested closest to him, her sisters separate but only an arm's length away.

The soft clucking of the mother chimpanzee not far from him in the shielded area brought his attention back to her. ' **You seem stressed** ,' signed the female. ' **Brother does not** …' Slate barely knew this female, and thus simply shrugged and shifted his weight from foot to foot where he was resting. At first, all he did was grunt in reply, but then he finally turned to her. ' **How long has Pine been there**?'

' **Some time. Fire went out when rain started, he left from Rocky Slip to join the girls** ,' responded the mother. Her keen emerald eyes followed Slate's as the two returned to observing Pine. "Something… wrong?" Slate took note of how her voice sounded, her gentle scent filling his nose. It relaxed him, although a huff of frustration escaped him nonetheless. The sky snarled once more, lightning illuminating the steely-lit forest, earning a soft whimper from the white-tail at her side. Frightened, the child scampered up his mother's side and clung to her breast, burying his small pale face into her sternum. "It… getting dark. Storm starting…" observed the female. Her eyes danced along the canopy which was visible from beneath the large richly-colored leaves. Slate found himself resting back upon his haunches, the hooting of his tribe mates filling the air, excited by the angry clouds. Slate finally decided it was best to wait until Spoon had left Pine well alone, his head tilting to engage with Mist. ' **Your son** …' he signed. ' **Twig. He doesn't like the storm.** '

Amusement twinkled within Mist's eyes. ' **Yes** ,' responded the female, lips parted in elation. ' **His name was going to be Thunder. Ironic, don't you think**?' The two of them exchanged puffs of laughter, Twig's large doe-eyes glancing between the two. Bird calls mingled with the empire's noise, the babbling river bubbling away, off a few feet behind Mist and Slate.

Leaning forward, his chin rested within his palm, elbows resting upon his thighs. ' **I used to be frightened of weather like this too** ,' Slate recalled, pointing to himself. Pausing, his index brushing his thin lips in though. ' **I bucked up quick though. Pine wouldn't let me be nervous**.' Bringing a paw to his chest, he gave it a pat. A grunt escaped him, and then he spoke. "Apes _strong_. That's what Pine.. taught me." When Slate turned his gaze over to rest upon Lake's mother, she was smiling pleasantly. Nodding, her hand graced over Twig's small fuzzy back.

' **And you are strong. Fine hunter, just like Button had been** ,' she replied, recalling her deceased husband. Button had been a strong chimp, rather large for his kind. Mist and he had met some years after the first rising of the ape empire, raising Lake together. Slate, of course, had been about her age, but focused on hunting earlier because of his sibling's interest. Poppy had taken her time elsewhere, and still studied medicine just as she had before Koba's reign. Afterwards… she had become more reliant on the two of them and dropped the shaman dream of her's. Being small, as well as female, she hadn't fought; not like Pine and he. There had been a certain amount of time where the twins had been divided morally, and although the two came together once more after Caesar had finally sent the tyrant to hell where he belonged, things had been left to scar over, gnarled in placed between the siblings.

Pine thought like Koba had.

' **Hail taught me and Pine** ,' he signed, followed by the gesture for father. Something stirred behind her eyes. Although the trio of siblings had never known their parents and thus had been bounced between the tribe's females as they grew, Hail had steered them onto the right path as a father-figure, even after the war (granted, with Pine as best he could). The lightly colored ape -similar to Grey, Koba's notorious follower- had followed Caesar with all that had been in him, even despite being wary of humans. Noticing the solemn look in Mist's emerald gaze, Slate let out a gentle pant. "I'm sure… Button and Hail have gone on.. many hunts before." Her head bobbed and then turned away, gazing off as rain drained off their shelter. Thunder rumbled once more. Slate took a deep breath through his nose, audible in the silence. He then grunted and hauled himself to his quads, ducking out and into the open.

' **Nice talking to you** ,' Mist signed as he glanced over his shoulder.

Slate's head bobbed in response. ' **Thank you for the company** ,' he gestured. The hunter hadn't really spoken much to Mist; the two of them rarely interacted, mostly because the women were mostly stationary and rarely helped with hunting. Ambling through the grass, he made for his brother, when his gut soured. Their eyes met, his tawny depths briefly exploring the grey and brown bichromatic set he carried, before he abruptly turned and headed up toward the river. Crossing over to the other side and underneath the massive arched root of one of the fan-trees, he headed for the huts nestled off past the towering giants, eyeing the path ascending to the main level of the Education tree. Perhaps Hail would be inside, chatting with Ring, his mate and his son Salt. The grass was wet and squishy beneath his knuckles as he paced his way forward. The tall andropogon tendrils created a wall that lead off toward the crop fields and the majority of ape homes came close, but just before Slate could push his way in, something caught his eye. Brushing it off at first, he allowed himself to wander inside the long grass, heading for Hail's home, when he stopped with a sudden wave of dread. His heart hiccuped within his chest and he turned, creeping out from the grass and peering up at the winding staircase attached to the thick trunk of the tree.

Caught upon one of the sharpened logs was a pale leaf- no, a sheet of paper. As his head careened back, rain splattering his cheeks, he felt his gut harden and quickly trotted over to the side of the towering fir once more, ambling up the stairs and coming to where the paper fluttered in the brisk wind. Slate hastily tight-roped out onto the long protruding branch and snatched the paper just before it blew away in the claws of the storm's breeze. Gawking, he read a few of the dark blots of letters and drew it closer to his face, examining the damp surface. His head then tilted to the side and he nervously looked toward the swaying canopy of needles and the dark gathering of sharpened logs. Slate needed that book back. He couldn't let it stay up there… hopeful that no ape was present above, he escalated along the path, following it as he normally would, the paper crumpling within his grasp. His pace slowed as he reached the top, stepping with confidence as he made his way inside. Just as he wound around the corner, he was met with a flash of pale skin and milky hair, his eyes flashing as they fell upon the tribe's only human member. Her blue eyes were full and intelligent, golden-tipped lashes fluttering. " _Nova_ ," he huffed, quickly hiding his expression of surprise.

' **Slate** ,' she signed, gently smiling and crouching next to him. The fifteen year old's long hair cascaded over her shoulders, the tan human shirt covering her torso smudged and dirty. Her feet were clad in sneakers, dirtied from days upon days of being worn outside. After Caesar's passing, she had grown up under Maurice's wing, held dearly in the old orangutan's heart. The teenager was growing marvelously fast, her legs long and her once innocent features becoming more elegant. She had become a good friend of many of the royal family, and at times took care of Cornelius when Tinker or Lake were not present. ' **What are you doing up here**?'

The dark grey male chuffed and glanced past her, catching a glimpse of the inside of the tree. ' **Maurice, where is he? I need to-** '

A gurgle of greeting erupted from inside as the aging orang slowly knuckled and swung forward. Slate, brushing by Nova, approached the larger ape with a dip of his head. The orang's left hand reached out and rested upon Slate's broad shoulder in greeting, before sliding up to pat the side of his ear. Maurice's emerald eyes were sharp as ever, although the edges of the hair upon his jaw were beginning to grey at the ends. ' **Wonderful rain we're having** ,' gestured Maurice, a fond little twitch of his lips gracing his attributes. ' **It will bring nourishment to crops and make the river grow fat. Perhaps more fish can be caught**.' If anybody had a fantastic grasp upon sign, it was Maurice.

' **Fish would be nice** ,' added Nova, balancing her way along the edge of the classroom before joining her surrogate sire as he wondered back inside. ' **Would be a nice change from deer.** ' Slate followed in silence, eyes darting around his surroundings. Outside, the rain hissed against the longs, the damp wind gusting in on the occasion and causing the torches to flicker where they rested. The orang guided them deeper into the room until they were finally dry, and rested back with a loud gust of air. Leaves fluttered up into the air, then returned to the floor. ' **Now, what brings you here**?' inquired the large orang, another burble bubbling in his throat sack. Slate's gaze was wandering for a moment before he caught sight of the saffron buckingham cloth; his head then snapped around, his attention returning to Maurice.

' **Looking to borrow** -' he awkwardly remarked, followed by a gruff rasp in his throat in order to convey he was serious. Settling back upon his haunches, he brought both hands up and pressed them together. Slate then opened them, yet kept the edges of his coriaceous mitts together, as if mirroring how to extract the information from inside the item. ' **Book**.'

Maurice's ape-brow rose as if in surprise, his lips pursing. Realizing how strange this was, he added, ' **For Poppy**.'

Maurice hovered for a moment, olive and gold-flecked eyes examining him, before he let out a rumble from within his breast and turned his head toward Nova. The girl had already been off near the stacks of books on the opposite wall, and turned with curious royal eyes. ' **Nova, would you please help Slate**?' requested the greying orang, to which she responded with a nod. Her attention then fell upon Slate, who felt his chest tighten and allowed his amber eyes to fall, avoiding her probing gaze. After a moment, he dipped his head in acknowledgement and knuckled his way over to the milky-crowned human. Nosing his way through the books nonchalantly, he listened as she offered a few to him, ignoring the one that lay separate upon an old woven stool. His eyes shot between her and the item in question. ' **This one is about dragons. White-tails love it** ,' gestured Nova with dainty hands. ' **Poppy might find it simple, but nice.** ' Nose twitching, Slate scrunched his snout up and expressed disinterest.

"Need _challenge_ ," the chimp remarked, fingers reaching and gently dragging across the spine of a few to his left. Maurice had so many that he wondered how the old Bornean wrapped his head around it all. Perhaps if he described it, he could trick her into getting it for him. ' **Many books. Only need one. Lots of words.** '

Nova and he met one another's eyes; she seemed puzzled. ' **Maybe Dictionary**?'

Slate grunted and shook his head. ' **Already read dictionary** ,' replied the ape, puffing through his nose and beginning to wander, eyes combing the piles. Impatience was beginning to burn within his belly, his hair nervously beginning to ruffle along his shoulders. Maurice seemed to be noticing this from a ways off, having paused his scribbling upon the tree bark. "Need many pages, need- need-" Nova watched, following behind on her hands and knees.

The Bornean suddenly piped up, lips parting as he gurgled aloud and then chuffed, causing Slate to pause and his head to turn. ' **Since when are you so picky with books**?' he asked, leaning back on one leg and using his arm to support him as he stood.

' **I'm not. Poppy is** ,' replied Slate, his gestures rather hasty. Finally, he came to the smaller pile of books; they all appeared to be worn out and messy, as if they had been used greatly. Picking up the book, he felt the damp cloth's stiff surface beneath his paw. Just as he was opening, he heard a soft, breathy sound peep from Nova and felt her hand upon his forearm as a warning, but it was too late. Pages fluttered out and the spine practically hung by a few shreds of fabric, damaged from his own rough conduct. Slate immediately allowed the book to fall and moved away from Nova, pant-barking gently in a manner that told her to leave him be. He didn't wish to scare the poor adolescent, but he had boundaries and she seemed to have forgotten that.

' **Broken, worn. Needs attention and to dry… should not touch** ,' explained Nova, clearly shaken. Her eyes were wide, glossy with fright from the mild shock Slate had expressed during the moment of brief physical contact. ' **Take a different one**.'

Slate understood this very well; besides, if he even tried to use it, it would have fallen apart further. Frustration filled his lungs and exited in a gust of hot air, clearly uncomfortable now. If he had have just pitched the thing in the lake or even left it, he could have destroyed the evidence. It had been stupid of him to bring it anywhere near home. The sound of Maurice approaching caused him to move from his stiff stance, returning to all fours and making for the piles where they had begun. Reaching into one of the stacks, he passively picked out a novel and peered at the cover. "This one ..works," he asserted quickly, not even taking the time to read the dull bronze writing. Tucking his arm inward, he made for the entrance, only for the wise Bornean to step in his path. Their eyes met for a moment- the chimp could feel Nova's sapphire eyes chewing into his back.

' **Nova, why don't you go visit Tinker and see about Cornelius** ,' suggested the orang, a gurgle escaping his throat pouch as he signed gently to his human. Maurice's attention then fell, meeting Slate's deep tawny eyes. ' **I'm going to help Slate with his book problem**.' Without another thought it seemed, she obeyed and rose to her feet, padding away toward the entrance. Once her crown of milky blonde was gone, they were left in silence. Slate's lip curled slightly and Maurice's chin tilted downward, emerald eyes widening gently in order to examine him. It was clear that he was suspicious of something… but what of exactly, he was unsure.

' **I've already chosen one** ,' objected the chimp, studying the larger simian as he knuckled and then brought his hind legs forward, slowly plodding around him. His long fingers began to pick up the sheets of paper and place them inside of the novel. "So I'll.. leave." Turning his body, he tilted in the colony overseer's whereabouts.

' **So Poppy asked you to come up here** ,' quizzed Maurice. His massive head tilted in his direction from where he sat with the book in his hands. Just by how he moved, Slate could tell that he was beginning to become slightly rheumatic in the joints. ' **Why not come up here herself**?'

Slate wavered, weary once more. What was he supposed to say to that? "Yes… said needed book. For ..white-tails," he responded, then shifted his weight.

' **With lots of words? For white-tails**?' A smile laced the elder's thin lips. Maurice's head leaned gently. ' **The book had your scent on it**.' Slate shrugged and allowed his eyes to flicker to the novel in his hands. If he played it off right, he could keep Maurice from saying anything more on the topic. Maybe he could fool Pine, Poppy, Sage and Quill, but the clever orangutan's eyes weren't something you could pull the wool over so easily. Fortunately, with his slowing mind, maybe he could find a loophole. ' **With how you're acting, makes me wonder** …'

' **White-tails need to learn** ,' Slate signed. "Pictures won't.. always _help_."

' **Why not learn here**?' Maurice gestured to the room around them, then allowed his attention to return to the chimp to his right. ' **Won't the owner miss it**?'

"Won't miss."

Maurice burbled, frowning. His usually soft eyes hardened a pinch. ' **Counsel won't be happy that you left it for someone else to find. Could have lead enemies to ape home** …'

"I have ..under control!" he clipped, his voice hoarse as it raised slightly. Slate's teeth flashed, obvious bothered by the old orang's concerns, as if he wouldn't do his job in protecting apes. He had too much pride. "Human alone, weak. Will not bother apes."

' **Never said anything about humans** ,' Maurice signed abruptly, features thawing. His olive eyes twinkled with amusement now. If Slate could have paled, he would have. The classroom suddenly fell silent, the sound of rain splattering from the leaves being the only noise within the lull. The orangutan allowed the book to be placed upon the top of the mending stack. Maurice's head then turned once more. ' **Child**?' he inquired, now curious.

Debating on whether to shut himself up, he paused. ' **Woman** ,' the dark grey chimp finally responded. ' **Ape size, skinny**.'

' **Where, how far**?' asked Maurice.

"Deep in forest. By… river," Slate chuffed, brow heavy and lip curled. "Alone, weak. If threat-" The ape brought his hand to his throat. ' **Kill. Bring here, to ape home-** ' He paused and then gestured sharply with emphasis, eyes cold and wide. ' **Skin.** **_Hang_**.'

Maurice's eyes grew larger than Slate ever thought they could, as if he had seen a ghost. His head tilted slightly and he cast Maurice an icy stare. The chimp then removed himself from his haunches and used his free hand to knuckle away.

Slate ignored Maurice as he burbled after him, exiting out into the summer's thunder storm.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** _**Sorry for the delay, just have been having a hard time sleeping lately and getting my brain working! Those reviews and favorites are helping me keep writing though, so thank you so so much!**_ _ **I'm super excited for you guys to see what I have in store! Keep up with those comments; I love to hear what you guys have to say.**_

 _ **This chapter was rather heated toward the end. Left this on a bit of a dark note, so now we're starting to question Slate. Who is he really? Is he our strong and noble colony member? Or is he someone much more malevolent?**_

 _ **Good luck reading pals, hope you enjoy~**_

 _(P.s. Although I prefer to leave it up to the reader to piece together what Krissa looks like, if you're curious, in my mind's eye her reference is Tashi Rodriguez.)_


	6. The Truce (Chapter V)

The sun had set behind thick clouds and the rain had finally ceased, the entire forest filled with the sound of calming crickets and the aroma of crackling wood. Off in the distance, the storm could be heard as it retreated, making its way away from the Simian Forest. Owls gently whistled and giggled, a coyote howling from far off, most likely way down the side of the mountain. The apes could be heard as well, calling into the night as they did … _whatever_ the colony did. The cuts on Krissa's face and arm were still pulsing with heat from the encounter earlier that day. She had managed to clean them as best she could and wrap up the heavier flesh-wound, leaving the cut on her cheek with a few simple band-aids. The young woman prodded the coals of her fire with her coal-stirring stick, watching as ash flew up into the air, glowing bright tangerine and sunny yellow. The warmth resonating from the flames was something comforting; it was cold, even despite the heavy sweatshirt she wore and the jogging yoga pants beneath her dad's old baggy jeans.

Her curls tumbled from beneath her hoot, her free hand tucked within the conjoining pouch on the front of her sweater. Everything the light touched glistened from the afternoon's storm. Krissa's bones were pleasantly lukewarm, even despite her dip in the river after dinner. Her meal had been light, mostly made of roasted squirrel and a protein bar, as well as some hot pine needle tea… because who didn't deserve a piping-hot tin-can of leaf-water? Nestling deeper within her burgundy hoodie, she watched the fire dance and sway to an inaudible song, her tongue gracing gently out over her soft lips. So, her book was gone. She would have to search for another if she could find her way safely to the town over the mountain again. It usually took her a few days to get there, but so long as she wore her darker clothing, she could make it without worry.

The only thing that she could think of that could become a problem was the fact that she did not know where the ape tribe resided, and didn't want to risk stumbling upon them. They would slaughter her. Krissa took a deep breath through her nose and allowed her head to lean back against the log behind her back, peering up at the canopy and the sky above. She needed to remain optimistic… that was the only way she could survive further. For now, her main concern was packing up and figuring where she would head. Head careening, Krissa glanced off toward where her map lay upon one of the rocks, an old compass resting atop the old worn out paper. Maybe the book wasn't something she necessarily needed, but it kept her focused and sharp, as well as reminded her of what life had been before the virus hit. Each time she remembered the virus, she felt a nervous pang within her stomach. Being alive now, even after the final spell of mutation in the disease's genetics, she was immune. There were probably only a handful left on this planet who were like herself, and if it were anything like what had happened where Krissa was, they were also under threat of the apes. Even despite the fact that there were places in these woods that she herself had not explored, there was no possible way that anybody could be within this woods other than herself… she surely would have made contact.

Shifting her weight, she rolled over onto her side and used her arm to cushion the side of her head. Her eyes shut softly and she took a deep breath of the chilly air around her. A frog croaked off by the river, it's usual babbling adding to the evening's song. Krissa missed her father's old guitar. She missed how he would play so quietly and yet be able to fill the entire campsite with such wonderful music. He would play Bob Dylan, or Johnny Cash… even some America. It was something she ached to hear again. As Krissa laid there, her hazel chartreuse gaze hidden behind smooth bronze lids, she felt something stir within her throat. She began to hum a soft tune, the words bouncing around within her head. _How many roads must a man walk down/ Before you call him a man? Yes, and how many seas must a white dove sail/ Before she sleeps in the sand?_ Her throat began to lock up and she stopped herself abruptly, a sudden wave of emotion washing over her.

Brine burned her optics, which evidently caused them to flutter open, the tears dampening her dark lashes. Taking a sharp inhale, she allowed the breath to trail from between her lips, trembling as grief throbbed deep within her hollow chest. The mournful howl of yet another canine drifted faintly from miles away to her ears. It was incredible how far their calls could travel. " _Yes and how many times must the cannonballs fly?/ Before they're forever banned_?" Krissa's voice was silky and humble. It wasn't the best when quiet, but she could thankfully hold a tune. Of course she was pulling the typical "lonely woman singing her sorrows away in the middle of a forest to keep herself company", but it did calm her. It did. She could still hear her father's husky sonorous voice. Now _he_ could sing, and most nights Krissa thought she could hear him still, on the foggy edges and corners of her dreams. " _The answer, my friend… is blowing in the wind. The answer is blowing… in the wind_ …"

Silence fell once more, the gaps filled with nature's natural ballad. With another deep breath, her brow furrowed and Krissa studied the pyre for a moment longer before she rose from where she was settled on the damp earth and her quilted blanket. Collecting herself, she raised her arms above her head and removed her toque, running a hand through her wavy deep chocolate curls. Tension gathered within her joints in a delicious strain, her small, pleasantly warm body quivering from the effort. As Krissa relaxed, her eyes peeled open and she caught sight of something that caused her body to jerk and her heart to nearly burst from her chest, climb from her throat and run for safety within the ferns on the opposite side of the fallen redwood. Two round balls of light watched her from far off in the dark wood, motionless. She could barely calm her tremulous heart, her lungs taking in quick, short breaths. As her eyes adjusted, she could just make out the silhouette of bulking shoulders and a spear stretching toward the canopy. The creature looked more alien than in daylight.

Before the recent events, Krissa would have simply grabbed for the knife strapped to her thigh, but instead, her hands hovered. One held her hat, the other rested inches from her diaphragm. Her lips parted, but adrenaline clamped down tighly upon her throat, cutting her off before she could speak. The eyes blinked, growing and then narrowing. It was honestly terrifying, seeing the creature stare at her in such a chilling manner. Her onlooker was so human, yet she knew that they were far from that... Krissa's breaths became shallow and small, and before she could think twice about addressing the figure before her, her instincts had failed her. " _Slate_?" she called gently. The set of reflecting oculars blinked again. "Slate, why are you here?" Did he usually come and spy on her at this hour? Her other hand lowered. Who knew? He could have been around at any time, and come and gone without her even knowing. There was no answer. ' **Go home** ,' she gestured, clearly still sour over his behavior from earlier. ' **Go**.'

The eyes suddenly moved to the incandescence between the pair. There was a beat, and then they returned to her, and he slowly began to approach. The orange light washed over him, his coriaceous mitts, then his muscular arms, shoulders, and finally his entire body. Chartreuse and bister met auburn and tawny, and the ape settled back upon his haunches, giving her an unreadable expression. Krissa at first wondered if it were perplexity, but she knew better than to assume. In his hand was his spear, and… pressed between his palm and the weapon's staff, a weathered green book. Uneasy, she wanted to step back, but she surely would have tripped and tumbled over the side of the redwood behind her. Hovering, she proceeded to make eye-contact with the simian, shifting her weight slightly. ' **What is it**?' she asked, her hands moving bluntly. ' **Why are you here**?' There was a brief moment where something changed behind his illuminated fiery disks; their amber depths something close to liquid honey... never had she seen him in this light before.

Krissa watched as his attention fell to the crackling flames, his nose twitching in disinterest. Frowning, she remained standing for a moment longer, before she slowly returned to where she had been sitting and crouched, settling back on her behind. Her eyes never left the chimpanzee across from her. He wasn't answering any of her questions, but she had to admit… she was glad it had been him and not a stranger. At least she was somewhat accustomed to Slate's presence. The woman's eyes finally fell away and she reached over, prodding at the fire with her stick. She then leaned over and shifted onto her hands and knees. With a great inhale, she blew on the embers and sent ash flying up into the air. A chuff escaped Slate and he moved suddenly, which caused Krissa to reach for her knife and practically throw herself in the opposite direction, her back hitting the slick grass. " _Don't_!" she asserted. Using her elbow to support herself, she unsheathing her blade and brought it up to her breast in a defensive stance. After the assault from earlier in the afternoon, she was ready to go down swinging. "I'll move, _alright_? I'll move. You won't see me anymore, and I'll be out of your… _fur_."

Slate had come to a stop before her, his grip tightening on his spear as she had drawn her knife. The fur along his shoulders began to rise and his burning gaze narrowed. Without much more movement, he reached up with his free hand and retrieved the item he had been carrying. Giving the book a toss, it landed on her legs with a thump. The chimp then pivoted, swayed over a good arm's-length and a half away, before plopped down in front of the campfire. At first, Krissa remained rigid, eyeing him suspiciously. His body language was stiff, yet the survivor couldn't pick out anything threatening… was this some sort of apology? Straightening herself up, Krissa lowered her knife and tilted the cover toward the light. It was a copy of C. S. Lewis's _The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe_. Her brows rose in surprise. Glancing up toward Slate, she found that his eyes had returned to her, examining the way she looked at the book. "Thank you," she murmured gently, signing as well in order to express her gratefulness. ' **It means a lot**.'

Allowing her knife to return to it's holster, she took the novel within both her hands and began to read the first few pages, skimming. She then flipped through the entire book to make sure that all the pages were intact and were not damaged. The coyotes cried off in the distance and Slate shifted his weight. ' **What happened to my book**?' she asked, her hands moving gently through the air. The primate eyed her and then looked away. Was he actually expressing guilt?

"It… broke," he puffed, his voice nearly guttural as he spoke quietly. Krissa felt her heart sink, but then shut the book and allowed it to neatly rest within the crook of her leg. At least she had this one now. It was too bad that he had end up breaking her book, but she couldn't cry over it. She had a lot left of her father's memory… the book had merely been a small item. Krissa could just about hear her father shrug. Things happen, he would have said. "Don't worry about it," she assured, peering at the ape.

His eyes came to meet her own- Slate looked unimpressed. ' **I won't** ,' he signed indignantly.

Krissa just about snorted, a smile lacing her lips. Her head turned away as his lips parted and he chuffed, most likely upset that she was giggling at him. ' **Okay, if you say so** ,' she replied, shrugging her shoulders after. There was a beat, the two allowing the gap to be filled with the first comfortable silence they had ever had. Tucking her legs in and crossing them, Krissa pulled her sleeves over her hands and blew a few curls from her hazel gaze. The burning logs snapped and popped.

"Your… cuts.." Slate's gravelly grunt broke through her thoughts, her head turned in his direction. Her caramel complexion glowed gently in the light. Something in the chimp's expression sent a twinge of compassion through her. She could have sworn she had seen something close to concern flicker within those amber depths of his. ' **Face… arm**?' Krissa would have fallen out of her chair if she weren't already on the ground. Blinking, she looked him over, scouring his features for any sign of disquiet. His expression had hardened once more.

' **Hurts a bit. Better now. I've got a first-aid kit, so it was alright** ,' replied the survivor, her gaze falling back to the crepitation of the pyre. She quietly recalled the kick she had given him when he had grabbed her. Not only had it startled her, but he had grabbed the hem of her skirt, which had only added onto her alarm. She didn't know what he was capable of, nor what his intentions were. "Just don't go scaring people like that…" Slate shifted his weight where he crouched, spear in hand being rested down next to him, a few puffs escaping him. An owl's eerie cry rang out from somewhere above them. The two cast their heads skyward. Apprehensive, she peeked over at him once her eyes had fallen back to earth. "I'm sorry for kicking you…" she apologized finally.

The ape's head turned down, his darkening eyes and restless movements making his own discomfort crystal clear. _So much for apologizing…_ she thought. Perhaps he wasn't the type to exchange those sorts of courtesies. Returning her attention back to the flames, she pondered for a moment longer, listening to the popping fire and watching the embers slowly die. Krissa allowed her hand to wander along the book's spine, exploring how the cloth felt beneath her dirty fingers. There was another bout of reticence. It seemed as though this ape wasn't as talkative as others she had gone camping with. If she couldn't get him to explain to her why he was here instead of off with the colony, nor get an apology out of him, Krissa decided it was best to change the subject to a more… lighter one. Picking up the book, she shot him a gander, parting the pages. " _Once there were four children whose names were Peter, Susan, Edmund and Lucy_ ," she began aloud, seeming to startle the ape out of his own train of thought. The chimp's skull had risen from where it had been resting in his palm, simply remaining there as still as stone, before he allowed his chin to come to rest upon his extremity again. " _This story is about something that happened to them when they were sent away from London during the war because of the air-raids. They were sent to the house of an old Professor who lived in the heart of the country, ten miles from the nearest railway station and two miles from the nearest post office_..."

The young woman continued her story, her voice gliding through the words just as a sharp knife would through tender meat. The words fell into place as she began to pick through the beginning of the narrative. As Krissa explained that Lucy was hiding from her siblings during a game of hide-and-seek, yet could not find the back of the wardrobe, she could feel the primate slowly move closer to her. Originally Slate remained out of arm's reach, but then he soon came close enough for her to stretch over and place her hand upon his shoulder. Though of course she wouldn't dare touch him... He was larger than she remembered, his dark coat long and thick and his body broad and muscular. Krissa became wary yet did not break the fluent ribbons of phrase that trailed from her soft lips. She could hear his breathing, hear him grunt gingerly in interest (she hoped) as she began to speak about the Faun finding Lucy in the snow, describing what he looked like and how he carried his umbrella and wore a thick red scarf.

Eventually, her own wariness subsided; she grew more and more relaxed, soon becoming lost in the story itself. She didn't even flinch when Slate ambled up onto the log behind her and skirted by, coming to fall on her opposite side. His hand found the ember-poker and tended the flames, stirring scoria and ash around. A loud pop caused her eyes to jump up, but then her crown fell once more. Krissa had never noticed how tense she would sit while alone, nor how exhausted she was. This was an odd feeling.

This feeling she had only felt while in the company of her father.

* * *

 **Author's Note: _Things seem to be getting better between Krissa and Slate. It appears as though they are actually becoming closer. She's a human though, how could the two of them be anything more than enemies? With Maurice knowing as well, how do you think this will turn out?_**

 _ **Thank you for your reviews in the previous chapter- it really does help me to see that people are actually interested! If you haven't left a review yet, then don't be afraid to! I am also accepting PMs from anyone with questions or wish to discuss things on this topic.**_

 _ **Stay tuned for more chapters!**_


	7. The Hunt (Chapter VI)

The loud carol of a robin was what drew Krissa from her slumber, her lashes parting and her lids peeling open to lay upon the steaming embers of what had once been a roaring fire now all that was left among the stones lining the pit. A soft sigh escaped her, the clear not yet touched by golden rays but instead bathed in lazy, dim blue. Her chartreuse-hazel gaze then beheld further, falling on the bulky snoozing frame of Slate. The chimp was curled in a partial fetal position, his spear laid within one hand, the other cast carelessly over his snout and eyes. Her heart hiccuped in her chest at first, but she soon recalled the events of the evening before, and calmed herself. Krissa stirred and blinked, her eyelids naturally heavy as she rolled over onto her back where she laid upon her blanket. A shiver ran through her and she hugged herself, gazing up toward the massive, towering trees. After taking a couple of moments to wake herself, she sat up and rubbed her right eye free of sand.

She supposed it was time to take a bath. Getting to her feet, she retrieved a towel. Krissa headed down toward the river at the base of the hill, not particularly thrilled to submerge herself into the freezing body of water. Once reaching the bank, she undressed and waded her way into the crystal-clear chilly depths, teeth chattering as her bare skin was met with the gentle tug of the current. Krissa knelt and then ducked her head under, disappearing for a moment. The water was refreshing, even when it was already cool enough outside. Washing the dirt from her body and her hair, she scrubbed with quick hands and made haste before, goosebumps breaking out across her skin. Wrapping her arms around her slender torso, she gazed off across the river, watching how in the deeper areas she could just make out the shadows of a few fish.

You didn't have to ask Krissa twice to climb out and dry off. The survivor waded back onto shore, letting out gasps as her slick flesh hit the open air. Quickly grabbing the old towel, she dried herself off as fast as possible and finally wrapped herself up. After retrieving her clothes, she darted up the side of the hill, nearly skinning her knees as she crawled under the hanging blankets and into the crawl-space that was her shelter. Unzipping her bag, she went through what few items of clothes she had, stripping herself of her soaked bra and undergarments and exchanging them for new, dry ones. Krissa then tugged her dark grey NASA t-shirt and cuffed the sleeves, tucking it in once she had followed with her father's old jeans before slipping on her socks and lace-ups once more. She then folded the cuffs of the long pants into the lip of the footwear. The woods would become warmer as the day went on, hopefully. Pulling her dark chocolate curls up into a bun, she allowed some of it to hand loose, seeing as they would fall out as she worked; she had a heavy day of labor planned out.

Finally clothed, Krissa ducked under her bow and quiver's strap, and began to attach her knife to her thigh. Her belt was tightened and then cinched closed. The survivor then moved to the exit and parted the blankets that shielded the mouth of the cave, only to jolt in surprise when she met Slate's tawny eyes. Her head met the surface of the ceiling, earning a tiny squeak from her. With a dainty hand, she reached up rubbed the bump, wincing in pain. He really needed a bell. "You're _up_ ," she remarked sourly, although more towards the ache in her skull. His wide steely eyes washed over her, intrusive and perplexed, as if he couldn't quite understand what kind of animal she was. Once she was outside, she skirted around the ape and began to make for the river. As she walked, Krissa tilted her head over her shoulder, watching as the primate grew further and further away from her.

"You should go home!" she called to the chimpanzee, clearly busy with other tasks at the time. Pivoting back around, she came to the bank and followed along until she came to the shallowest end and splashed her way through, the small pebbles crunching beneath her boots. Krissa had only made it halfway through the river when she heard the trees above her rustle, a few chuffs escaping her pursuer. Frowning slightly, she finally made it to the opposite bank and began to head east, stepping over her usual path. Krissa could feel the warm sunshine beginning to bleed through the in watery shafts, illuminating the side of her torso facing the burning ball of light. Everything was touched with dew, gleaming in the morning rays. The bird song above was the only sound, aside from the occasional rattle of leaves as (she assumed) Slate kept an eye on her from above. Krissa would occasionally shoot the leering onlooker a peek as he meandered, sometimes closer, sometimes further. Initially he appeared to watched with intent, but the longer she made her way deeper into the woods, he seemed to lose interest and lag behind, before disappear altogether.

She had traveled for perhaps thirty minutes until she was sure that he was gone, and thus she began to eye the trees for a different sort of creature. The survivor slipped her weapon from over her head, disentangling herself from between the string and the recurve longbow itself, drawing one of her hand-made mottle-feathered arrows as she readied for her first victim. Krissa's ears pricked as soon as she spotted the lira above, it's fuzzy tail flicking occasionally as it gnawed on a seed pod in it's tiny paws. Swallowing gently, she recalled what her father had said about archery. Drawing with a deep breath, the survivor raised herself from where she crouched. Krissa felt her shoulder latch into place and then let the arrow fly, knocking the squirrel down from the branch of the fir. Elated by her success, she couldn't help but feel a smile ghost across her caramel attributes, her supple pink lips flashing gentle ivory teeth.

Retrieving her catch, she hung it over her shoulder by the throat, having strung it using the piece of twinge she always carried inside of her leather quiver. Despite stumbling across many chances for a successful hunt, Krissa would sometimes make too much noise or be spotted, which would typically end with her frustrated any other day… but for some odd reason, today she was determined to keep her wits about her and continue trucking along. She finally came to a stop in a little clearing and by now the sun was already in the cerulean stretch above the towering canopy. Toadstools littered the ground where she stepped, and being cautious of the plants, she chose to rest beside them. Setting her weapons down, along with her three prized catches and a singular cotton-tail, she rested her hands on the base of her back and leaned back, attempting to remove the stiffness within her back. Sleeping outside had taken its toll on Krissa- she just hoped that she wouldn't end up catching a cold. _That's deadly these days_ , she mused inwardly.

Judging by where the sun sat, it had been perhaps an hour and a half, maybe two. Settling down in the thick moss and liverwort clumps, she unsheathed her knife and began to untie the squirrels. A few fir needles stirred next to her and then suddenly the impact of something heavy hitting the ground nearly sent her ducking out of the way. Her eyes flitted up, her sharp hiss escaping through rosy lips. " _Christ_.." she gasped, shaking her head at Slate's rumbling. So he had returned... what did this chimp find so interesting about her? Where had he gone? Had he been following her the entire time without her _knowing_?

"Could you remember to _warn_ me before you suddenly show up?" Shooting the primate a glance, she met his eyes momentarily before returning her focus back down at the animals she had been preparing to gut and skin. It had never been her greatest strength before… The blade met the belly of the lira and she began to make small incisions in the skin, pulling back the flesh as best she could to reveal muscle. Krissa continued to do this, having great difficulty with removing what she could- this would explain why some of her food was still fuzzy in places. What could she do, though? Her dad hadn't completely finished teaching her-

A series of cough-like sounds erupted from the ape next to her. Krissa could feel the ape scrutinizing her as she struggled. A large hand suddenly brushed at the young woman's shoulder -albeit lightly, as if he were afraid she would bite him- to which she responded with a grunt of irritation but nothing more. Ignoring Slate, she moved her blade up toward it's throat, blood beginning to ooze from where she had cut. Cussing under her breath, the young woman moved to a different end of the body, just under the legs; unfortunately this time her blade cut too deep and severed a tendon. Slate pushed her this time and Krissa's head shot up. " _What_?" she questioned.

"Human… not doing it .. right," the ape declared.

"Not doing it right?" she echoed, the words leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. She was still learning! "You mean not to _your_ standards?"

His teeth flashed for a moment, curling his lip at her response. Here she was, a goddamn _chimpanzee_ telling her how to skin an animal. Of all things! Didn't they just eat the skin as well? Rolling her eyes, Krissa moved to continue her hack-job when once again, Slate disturbed her. This time, the brute grabbed for the squirrel. " _Hey_!" snapped the survivor. "That's mine, you sonova-"

Before she could finish her sentence, Slate swiped the knife from her hand, ending the squabble there. Exchanging an intense scowl with the animal, she remained stiff as a board, refusing to budge any further. Finally, a huff escaped his nostrils and he turned his head down toward the lira in front of him. Great… _just great_! Not only had he stolen her food, but he had her father's handy skinning knife. Despite her resentment, she couldn't help but peer over and observe as he began to skin the animal with swift hands, using one large coriaceous paw to hold the animal by the tail. All at once, he stripped the pelt off the haunches and trunk of the creature without much trouble. Slate continued by doing the same to the head and discarding of the fur, exposing the tender pink flesh beneath.

Krissa, dumbfounded by the little effort he had needed, gawked at the rodent now laying in the moss. A chuff brought her attention back up to Slate's face; his hand shot forward, fingers pressed together whilst his thumb rested upon his index finger. The chimp then drew it toward him and quickly brushed it against his chest. ' **Give**.' Understanding, she handed over the other two squirrels, having them snatched from her hands. Slate's limbs moved rhythmically, repeating his actions once again, only this time Krissa studied them. "Dig… knife too deep," remarked the chimp. Although uneasy, she shuffled closer and peeked further over his shoulder. "Draw blood, you make pelt too.. sticky." Was he actually teaching her? His head turned up, something flashing behind his tawny eyes for a moment as he realized how close she was to him. Slate didn't move though. His hand twitched, drawing her attention. ' **Slit just above the tail, pull it off the haunches** ,' he instructed, sniffing and panting. ' **Makes it easier.** '

Slate then demonstrated, and once more, the pelt stripped off cleanly without error. "Now.. _you_ do.. it," he ordered, shoving the knife back in her direction and picking up the final untouched rodent, tossing it out in front of her. She was suddenly nervous. Gripping the blade's handle in her palm, she swallowed and reached down, doing just as he had before. Tail, then the haunches; Krissa followed though and used her foot to hold down the tail, beginning to strip upward.

The chimp beside her suddenly croaked, catching her attention and stopping her in her tracks. ' **Not so gentle** ,' he advised flatly. Nodding, Krissa tugged a bit harder and found that the skin separated from the meat with little to no problem. A rumble of approval rang close to her ears. He had leaned closer. Mirroring his previous actions, Krissa managed to remove the rest of the pelt, tossing it to the side. Pride swelled in her chest.

She had learned to skin a squirrel.

* * *

After the animals were gutted and cleaned out, thanks to Slate's helpful - although nonetheless _lukewarm -_ teachings, she had finished up her job of wrapping them up in leaves and newspaper to keep them fresh. Once she was finished, Krissa rose to her feet and stretched before collecting her things. She was just about to leave when she felt a pang of gratefulness. " _Coming_?" she asked suddenly, turning. The ape was busy scraping dirt over the entrails when his head turned up, looking at her with that indecipherable look in his amber eyes.

He always looked perturbed, his brow furrowed. Slate, in response, signed, ' **Why**?'

 _Why_? Krissa's eyebrows knit. "Because I could use the company," she admitted. "It gets lonely out here, and since you've been following me, we might as well travel together. No reason to be hiding… you've made it clear already that you won't hurt me." Krissa watched as something close to insult stirred in his expression, but she dismissed it immediately as the ape glanced over his shoulder and then back at her.

Slate eventually picked up his spear and used it to support his weight while he rose to his hind legs. That was certainly something she would never get used to, seeing an ape _standing_ on its back legs and walking like a human would. Not wanting to stare, she glanced out across the foliage and returned her blade to it's sheathe; Krissa then turned her attention over at Slate, who was now standing next to her. He was only just taller than she was at her height of 5'6, perhaps by a few inches. Her body suddenly felt small and delicate compared to his broad physique, and that made her feel vulnerable. His dark eyes graced across her face momentarily before the two began to move onward, her taking the lead.

Soon the trees became more frequent and the woods more rich.

* * *

Their sunny day was eventually interrupted by spotty clouds, the sun hiding and then returning. There were times where Slate would stop, unsure of himself and glancing off down the path they traveled. Each time Krissa would paused as well, waiting for him, reminding him that he didn't have to stay, and each time the ape would break his gaze away from the woods behind them. Soon, the rain returned, although this time it was faint and fell softly rather than in sheets. Something in the distance caught her attention as they approached a grove of pines. Was it a bird? A plane? It was something familiar, yes. It was the sound of rushing water. The two approached the rambling river, coming to the needle-littered bank. The water cut through a large expanse of the thicket, the other side made of rocks and moss before returning to the dense wilderness. In the distance, Krissa could just make out the dull roar of a waterfall. Having been this way many of times, she slipped her slender torso between her string and longbow, returned her arrow to the quiver and bent over to make sure her pant-legs were secure within her American Rags. As she knelt and tightened the laces on her boots, Slate stirred next to her, letting out a pant-grunt.

' **We have the meat. Why not turn back**?' he asked. ' **Too far from camp**.'

Krissa held back a snort. "Are you afraid?" she teased. "'Cause we can turn around if you really want.."

Slate simply scowled in response, then eyed the rapids. ' **Swim**?' he inquired, obviously oblivious. The young woman then shook her head and plodded down along the bank. Coming to a fallen tree, she balanced herself and shuffled out along it before swiftly hopping off the massive roots and landing on the first rock. The spray from the river hissed in the air, adding to the gentle rain that already began to dampen her curls. Glancing over her shoulder, she gave a sheepish smile. ' **No, we cross here** ,' she signed, understand that she couldn't even yell above the rushing current. ' **I've done it before- it's easy. Just follow my lead**.'

Slate didn't take long to adhere to her request. _Maybe that means he isn't wussing out then_ , Krissa mused. Her attention turned toward the next rock she was going to bound to. Taking a deep breath, she took a step back and then sailed through the air, landing as gracefully as possible. When she cast a glance over her shoulder, she took note that the ape had made it to the surface of the moist stepping stone behind her and smiled reassuringly. He still looked rather unimpressed with her to say the least. Krissa leapt once again, followed by two more successful tries, although not without wobbling slightly on her third. When she finally made it to the middle of the water, she paused to peer down the course of the river as she shimmied to the lip of the rock. Krissa recalled crossing here before with her father, the stoic man coming to a stand-still as well to gaze off and behold the beautiful sight before him. Every rock was a deep blue-grey, the wood surrounding darkened brown from the fine mist coming off the crashing water, all the trees taking on an abysmal dark emerald. A few of her heartstrings quivered, a gush of emotion washing over her like the tide. No, she had no time for this. Back to business, she prepared to cross to the next stone.

There was a sudden gust of air and a yelp burst from her lips, quickly turning just in time to catch a glimpse of Slate careening back out of control as he lost his balance. He had jumped too soon. Her gut instinct kicked in and her hand shot out, grabbing hold of the spear in his hands and wrenching it forward, her other hand coming to grip his upper limb. Soon they were inches away from one another, the pair staring with unblinking eyes, each close enough to hear the other's heavy breathing. For a moment, Krissa caught the smooth smell of last night's fire, combined with the earthy undertones of the woods. Slate's wide amber oculars only grew the more he looked at her, leaving his face contorted in a mixed expression of animosity and horror. Snapping from her state, Krissa abruptly pulled away as if he had burnt her. "Be _careful_ ," she chided as she turned and leaped for the next stepping stone. Her heart hammered in her chest and her breath was caught up in her throat, hands still trembling from adrenaline. It had happened so quickly that she had overlooked any boundaries; if he had fallen into the river, he surely would have been swept away.

Finally, she reached the other side and waited for Slate, the ape easily leaping to safety where he shot a peek over his shoulder at the rapids. They then continued onward through the undergrowth, each as silent as the grave. Krissa had never grown used to the reticence that followed her each day since her father's passing. He would always chat with her about the trees and the birds, identifying them without a second thought. Even now, as she wandered, Krissa could hear the song of a blackbird off in the thicket, along with a few chipping bull sparrows as they twittered and cried out into the late morning wind. The further they wandered, the more it rained, and soon the young woman was forced to stop.

It seemed that Slate wasn't paying much attention to her cues as he sauntered by her. "Can you give me a second?" she requested as she reached up to removed her hair tie. Her near raven curls tumbled down and then she bent her head back; using her slender fingers, she began to comb her locks out and then tied back once more, this time into a ponytail. Slate seemed to be more focused on something further off in the brush. "I'm almost done.." Once the task was finished, she adjusted the bow on her shoulder and followed after.

The ape was traveling off the beaten path and down along the mossy grounds, eyes to the ground like a hound after a trail of blood. Cautiously following behind, she eyed her surroundings, beginning to wonder if she were being lead into a trap. Slate suddenly came to a halt and knelt. A beat. At that instant, his head rose and he crept forward on his knuckles. "What is it?" she asked wearily. Without an answer, she took the time to duck out of her bow and draw another arrow, lowering herself to the ground by crouching slightly. They eventually came to an actual marked trail, the ground cleared and full of scattered leaves from being left unattended for decades. A fallen oak was balanced on a slant over top the open walkway, which she easily dipped under. Slate veered off to the right, giving her a glance without much context. That's when she passed by it. Deeply engraved in the dirt path were a set of tracks.

 _Deer tracks_. Her heart sang and she couldn't help but just about smile. Krissa followed more eagerly, creeping silently along as they traveled down a short decline in the land, coming to level land once more. Above, the thick cedars and pines creaked and moaned in the breeze. A jay shrieked and cackled from somewhere in the distance. Slate's entire posture had changed, his dark hair raising slightly along his shoulders and spine. His hominin behavior was completely erased at this point, replaced with a wolfish instinct to hunt, just as any predator would. He appeared to have completely removed himself from her company, focused on the trail he followed for the moment and _only_ that. Although she had been nervous at the beginning, she was becoming enthralled, fascinated. Her mind was confused, trying to register him as one thing in particular, but she found that he was not human nor primate.

He was an _ape_. This was his world and that was his advantage.

Finally, they began to ascend once more, this time steeper. They came to a thick shield of sharp, stiff branches and suddenly Slate's hand shot out. Krissa froze on the spot and hovered, waiting as the primate used a long leathery hand to part the greenery. With another sharp gesture, he waved her over. Exhilarated, she crouched and lowered her bow, hesitantly drawing near to the primate. He moved so she was allowed to see through the gap in the thick clump of saplings out toward the break in the clear. There, standing as she munched on a mouthful of greens, stood a doe in all her glory.

She couldn't believe it. He was helping her _hunt_!

' **She is separate from herd** ,' gestured Slate. ' **Be still, watch for any signs of a buck**.' Nodding, Krissa watched as the deer's ears swiveled and her jaw worked, looking out over the hillside. Her head lowered, tail wagging as she took a half-step forward, swatting at flies. Krissa couldn't help but feel her breath stilling in her throat, afraid to even twitch in the shy creature's presence. A soft huff escaped the ape next to her, intently watching the long-legged creature before them, standing so calmly in the undergrowth. Clovers and blossoms pooled around her ankles, stirring as she brushed through them, her dark wet nose nudging through the great clumps. Her head rose once more and turned in their direction, although she continued to chew, munching delightfully so at her meal. Biting down on her bottom lip, Krissa didn't day waver where she sat, even her trembling hands now stilling. Once the doe's great head swung back around, she turned her attention toward Slate. The chimp's gaze lingered for a moment before it fluttered over to the girl next to him. ' **She's beautiful** ,' Krissa gushed, movements faint but nonetheless readable.

The chimp gave her a once-over before his head turned, peering through the parted shrubbery. For once, his expression did not seem crumpled and grumpy; this time he actually appeared curious, eyes no longer hidden from beneath heavy brows. Slate studied the doe for a while longer, tilting his head slightly. His attention then returned to Krissa, his head bobbing in agreement. The chimp then seemed to retract back into himself, the faint curl to his lips disappearing and reverting to his usual steely expression. There was a lull and the huntress shifted, as did the ape. As they sat there motionless in the brush, she felt the rain beginning to leech into her dark t-shirt and pant-legs. Goosebumps broke out across her skin. The doe took another step and exposed her back to them. Slate shifted. ' **Aim for the haunches** ,' signed Slate. ' **It will slow her down**.' A shrill burst of adrenaline spread through her stomach and her heart began to pound.

Taking a deep breath, she rose from where she had been hidden and stretched her arms in her best archer's stance, her back arching slightly and her shoulders drawing the arrow back as tight as the bow would allow it. She could feel the ape shift to look up at her as she did so, his amber eyes chewing into her. Lining it up along her index, she paused, then let it fly. The arrow met its mark in her haunch, earning a cry from the doe; the next few moments were quick and simultaneous. Krissa flew out from where she sat in the bushes and Slate scaled the nearest tree, pant barking as he swung himself with his powerful arms. Bounding after the whitetail as quickly as she could, the huntress was no match for the deer, it's short alabaster tag disappearing into the shrubs and out of sight.

Confusion set in, adrenaline causing the world around her to whirl around her in a storm of emerald and ash. Her pace faltered slightly, and thus Krissa's attention sorted to the chimp soaring through the trees ahead of her. With newly found confidence, she swung around the closest tree and dashed along the ridge, her breaths coming in heavy puffs now. Hoots and hollers echoed through the wood as they gave chase, the young woman eventually losing her stamina and tripping slightly, only managing to catch herself against a towering sycamore. The trees had leveled out, the blood on the ground leading in the direction she should follow. Slate was far ahead of her at this point, but eventually seemed to have realized she was out of breath, now resting on a short but sturdy branch in the canopy. Krissa bent over, resting her hands on her knees and trying to rid herself of the pain shooting up her throat with each gasp for air.

The rain was dripping down her face and beading at her nose in pearls of clear liquid, sweat mingling with the chilly precipitation. The sound of the leaves rustling once more alerted her to Slate's gradual approach. Frustration boiled in her chest and she finally slipped herself into the longbow to make it easier to move. Then, she sat down in the moist earth and began to vigorously remove her boots and socks. After cuffing up her pant legs to her shins, she unsheathed her blade and embedded it into the tree, marking where she had left her footwear.

Then, whirling herself around, Krissa took flight again.

* * *

They never found the deer, which meant she had wasted an arrow. It had been a fruitless attempt, seeing as she knew they would have never caught her without a few others to aid them. Returning to her boots and her knife, she collected her things and they set off toward the river once again. Stewing in her own impediment, she began to wonder if it would have been more successful if she hadn't been so slow and cumbersome compared to the chimp that accompanied her. Her eyes ghosted over to the male, whom knuckled along beside her, his spear helping him even his weight. "I'm sorry," she apologized glumly, averting her eyes as soon as his head turned. "I should have ran faster. Maybe we could have caught her…"

Not only did she feel awful for letting the game escape, but she pitied the deer wandering the woods, an arrow in her hide, pain resonating through her leg each time she stepped. Swallowing gently, she pushed that away, focusing on crossing the river next. "Will catch next.. time," reassured Slate. His attitude seemed unrecognizable now, his shoulders not as set and tense. The ape rose up next to her, meeting her height. ' **Your first time hunting big game**?'

Krissa hummed and nodded, shrugging. "My father and I would go out hunting for quail out here, but birds are different," she explained. "Plus, we used guns, not longbows. He only gave this to me because it was the first thing he grabbed when we left our home.." Her stomach soured, remembering the smoke and the gunfire splitting overhead as the riots and pillaging ensued. The night they had left it all behind… their humanity lost. "We'd go camping out here in our tents, but because it was so dangerous those days, we decided to look for some kind of natural place to stay…"

Perhaps he was listening, perhaps he was not... but it felt nice to just _talk_. "My dad and I spent _years_ moving from place to place.. Avoiding _your_ kind and _our_ kind alike." Her story trailed off. Clearing her throat, she allowed her eyes to fall and made for the bank, trotting now. What did _he_ care? He was a chimp. The two made it across the river safely, without error, and began to ascend to the blanket of orange and withered cedar leaves and pine needles.

They moved silently, venturing through the thicket. "What… happened to.. your _father_?" Slate's question stunned Krissa for a moment, their eyes meeting as he looked at her in question from behind lowered brows. ' **Apes kill? Humans**?' Slate's hands were graceful and gentle for once. The two paused, exchanging a look. He looked so engrossed that she genuinely felt as if he were listening to her.

Krissa cleared her throat and her eyes fell. "No. He got sick again… the flu came back," replied bluntly. Turning back to the path, she strode ahead, stuffing a hand in her pocket. Krissa couldn't deny the tightening in her throat. She continued, her voice croaking. "The fever made him forget who I was, and I had to kill him.. Otherwise, I wouldn't be standing here today." The young woman's memories returned and she remembered how she had curled up inside the cave, leaving her father's body alone for days until she had finally built up the nerve to look upon it. Pressing his eyes shut, she had lifted him as best she could, although evidently had to drag him to where she was to bury him. She had dug until her nails had broken and her fingers had bled, and finally laid him to rest beneath a large pine tree far off on the other side of the fallen redwood. Krissa had left his shotgun resting up against the tree's base, along with his baseball cap.

That had been a two years ago. "Now, it's just me."

* * *

The rest of the walk was silent and long, but soon Krissa began to see evidence of their slow approach to her territory. The sky was a hard cinereal, cold just to look at. She knew she would have to put something dry on or she'd catch a cold, and so she made a beeline for the river as soon as it was in sight. Sloshing through, she could hear Slate trailing behind her, still keeping close to her now that they had become so comfortable with one another… more or less. They were making progress. A great relief washed over Krissa as she quickened her pace, ascending the slight slope leading up to her home. Her bones were tired and her muscles sore from running for so long. Not only that, but she was freezing. Maybe she should have counted on rain. Readying to kneel and crawl under her shelter to where her clothes were kept dry, she heard the rustle in the trees and suddenly jolted around. Racing to the redwood as quickly as she could, she shouted up to him.

"Slate, wait!"

The primate peered down at her from where he rested for a moment, debating on whether he should descend once more to listen to what she had to say. Eventually though, he swung himself down, colliding with the earth with a pant-grunt. He stretched to his full height and she looked into his eyes, rather unnerved. Swallowing, she offered her hand. "Thank you…" she said warmly. Then, when he tilted his head and narrowed his gaze slightly, she clarified. "For teaching him how to skin, that is. It helped a lot and I'm sure the food will taste much better now.." Once she was finished her piece, he looked down at her head, examining it at first.

Slate then sniffed and reached forward, his leathery hand coming to clasp her upper forearm, holding it firmly. Krissa hesitated, but mirrored his action and gently gripped his burly ulna. The fur beneath was moist, just as her own hair was. Finally, he released her.

"Does… does your tribe know about me?" she asked, curious suddenly. His eyes flared open. "Th-they… I figured they would-"

" _No_ ," chuffed Slate, his tone so blunt that it caused Krissa to abruptly shut her mouth. ' **Apes do not**.'

She nodded, taking a deep trembling breath in through her nose. "Alright… thank you." He studied her for a moment longer before he ascended the tree silently and carefully. Krissa shielded her eyes against the ghostly light of the afternoon rain and observed as he began to swing through the air so gallantly. She couldn't help but smile. He was keeping their meetings a secret.

If it had been any other day, she couldn't have taken his word as truth, but after their time off in the brush together, Krissa felt safe to trust him.

* * *

 **Author's Note : [inhALES] _That took a lot out of me, creatively, but I feel so energized now! I've been listening to a lot of The Oh Hellos lately, which helps a lot with inspiration and getting into that "stuck in the woods and making a strange new friend" vibe. Its exciting to see this stuff coming to life before my very eyes and I hope it works out that way for you guys as well. _**

**_Thank you for the continuous words of encouragement you guys, I really really really appreciate it! Y'all are keeping me afloat and its great to see everyone is enjoying the storyline so far. _**

**_"_ _Apes do not_ _", well, he just blatantly lied to her face. I wonder how that will effect their relationship in the future? Stay tuned to find out!_**

 ** _Keep up with those reviews, I absolutely adore hearing from all you guys._** ** _Love you lots, see you in the next chapter pals!_**


	8. The Colony (Chapter VII)

Do you think that Slate would have slept if he could have? Yes. Had he? _No_ , not for the past two months. He had tossed and turned within his residence, the moss and leaves that made up his bedding strangely uncomfortable. The only winks he had managed to catch were brief and troubled. It was early morning and Slate was finally pulling himself from his living quarters with a sniff of discomfort. Yet another unpleasant night's rest only to wake up to the constant chorus of birdsong that drifted up from the valley. He shared his family's hut with Poppy, nestled in the treeline and separate from the clumps of homes further down along the way that bled slightly off into the woods; they had their own privacy, which was nice. As he moved he was aware of how his bones were weary and stiff, his joints feeling older than they should at his age.

Pondering on this, he knuckled his way up to where the path finally reached the main camp. Yawning, he crossed along the thick dirt and mingling roots through the exposed grounds, eyeing the withered old dogwood that leaned over and gave shade to the ledge. It had long since bloomed, it's branches barren of the spring's beautiful flowers. Many were eager to see it blossom during the spring.

Ambling up an outcrop of stone, he gazed out at the rosy sky and the mist drifting through the lower-lying mountains and over the lake beneath. Off in the distance was the continuous rocky desert the colony had crossed those meager three years ago, when war had hung over the Muir Wood and they had all been forced to flee. So many things had changed and so quickly too. The apes were situated further up the mountainside, finally and officially moved into their new home. It had taken nearly a month to build the homes needed and move the elders, females and children to where they all had truly belonged as a group for nearly two-hundred now. Initially the plan had been to stay near the lake, but with the recent discovery of the perfect survey of the land from the cliffs, they had decided it was safer up there. Elevation was quite beneficial.

The journey up the main path had been a steep one, but it had been completely worth the risk. Rocket's worries had been extinguished as soon as he had witnessed the view for himself. The huts were built along the many paths along the ledges and overhangs, their crops being grown in clumps further away, down near where Hail and his wife lived. During the evenings or the waking hours of the day, torch light could be seen speckling the side of the Simian forest's great peak. The main entry point to the ape village was where most of the royal family stayed, and along the borders were stationed at least four sentries at each checkpoint.

If any creature attempted to sneak in, they would surely be spotted, and would have a hell of a lengthy climb up those steep, stony, winding paths.

It had been a long couple of months yet they had passed by within a flick of a buck's tail. Slate hadn't seen hide nor hair of Krissa, although this was mostly given to his sudden workload. Of course he had been more than willing to help with the move, but her sudden disappearance had puzzled him to say the least. Perhaps it was time to leave her to her human things. He had his tribe to look after, especially now that his uncle Hail and he had been closer than ever now. Still, as Slate was settled there, observing the new home, he struggled to fight the uneasy feeling in his gut.

Settling back on his haunches, he scratched his chin gently. Others seemed to be stirring and wakening as the sun slowly rose up into the milky sky. A few males reached the main camp and crouched together, readying to relieve the sentries of their watch and swap out shifts. As he watched Sage joining the sentry group, he wondered where his brother was. Pine hadn't been present much, mostly seen with Spoon or working on building the huts that were still in construction. The scarred male was now living with his mate, which had come up so sudden that Poppy and he hadn't had much say in things. Not that they would have had a say to begin with, Slate remarked inwardly with a twitch of his upper lip.

The further Pine drifted away, the more he infuriated him.

A sudden throaty burble drew his attention away from the oasis that stretched out before the camp and toward the hulking auburn figure of Maurice. The orangutan's olive depths gleamed intelligently as he took the chimpanzee before him in. Plodding not far behind him was the long-legged human of his, her pale hair tied back in a ponytail. She eyed him wearily. ' **Hello** ,' she signed as she passed by her teacher and he, giving the wise ape a pat on the shoulder. Maurice's throat pouch resounded once more, and then he settled down not far from Slate with an audible thump. The distant hoots of communicating apes drifted up into the air, drawing his attention back. It wasn't until Maurice moved closer that he realized just how awkward he felt around him.

' **Morning** ,' he gestured curtly.

Maurice allowed a hiss to escape from his nose, which evidently ended with the chimp adjusting himself so he could look directly at the orang. ' **Good morning** ,' greeted the greying orang. ' **You look tired**.'

Nose twitching, Slate paused and took his time in replying. ' **Bad nest. I think I need to replace it,** ' he dismissed. The orangutan's had lowered and he peered at him with curiosity. Their small-talk came to an end, the two sitting in an awkward silence. Maurice seemed completely comfortable with this though, and reached over, picking up a stray twig. Bringing it to his lips, he began to strip off the bark, munching away.

At first the air was tense as Slate was acutely aware of Maurice's presence, the orang being the only other primate to know of his little secret- but then the appearance of a specific chimp drew his attention. _Lake_. His eyes followed the dark female, the beads lining her long face swaying as she traveled up the path and into the core of her home. She paused, seeming to take in the view just as he had when he had reached the camp. Her leer then washed along the walls of the camp before gracefully falling upon Slate's observant amber set. A smile tugged at her lips in greeting and she panted softly in his direction, which left the male with warmth spreading within his belly. It was abruptly extinguished when Lake wandered over to Nova, who was nestled in a pool of visiting, grooming women.

Ah, he remembered Poppy excitedly telling him how the dark chimp had taken interest in Blue Eyes.

He had been happy watching the two court one another and eventually become mates, dismissing any sort of vague interest he had had for her. Slate recalled how nervous his friend had been the night of the ceremony, and how he and Sage had encouraged him. They had been married for perhaps six months before their spark had been reduced to smothered embers by a bullet between Blue Eyes' ribs. Despite her vulnerability, Slate had never seen Lake so strong. During that morning the apes had left the caves in the Muir woods and began their journey, even in the work camp, breaking their backs and starving as they slaved away at the wall; she had been a beacon in the dark. Slate had never found another female so attractive. Since their freedom and Caesar's fall, they had had brief interactions, yet nonetheless he sometimes pined for the female, catching her while she was cooking or out helping Maurice teach the little ones. That shy little smile she had… it was always something that he found would give him hiccups in his chest.

Slate realized that his coat was beginning to prickle and immediately turned his gaze away from where Lake now sat. ' **Lake is a clever female, but many males look at her like you do** ,' Maurice suddenly remarked. Was it that obvious? Narrowing his cognac tones at the orang, he gave him a once-over. His sour expression only seemed to amuse the greying orangutan. ' **You'd best search elsewhere**.' Grunting, he shrugged off Maurice's comment. There was yet again another silence. Slate shifted slightly. The bird song drawled on and for a while, the chimp began to relax in his elder's presence.

Then he piped up again, bringing his attention back to his large, rotund face. ' **Have you run into the human lately**?' Maurice's question was so blunt and sudden that Slate felt as though the wind had been punched from his throat. His tawny eyes widened ever so slightly, brow raising skyward. The orangutan's gaze bore into him, anticipating his response.

' **No** ,' he replied after a beat, actions faint so as to keep it between the two of them. ' **She's probably gone. Dead maybe**.'

Nodding, the orangutan finished his twig and allowed it's remains to fall at his side. ' **You smelled like her strongly one day** ,' replied Maurice. Slate grunted, uncomfortable with his remark. Had they really? Or was the old geezer simply trying to frighten him? Maurice's hands twitched once more. ' **Some males looked suspicious, although said nothing. Would you have told them**?'

Slate's chin tilted up. " _No_ ," he huffed, eyes shooting off and away. The chimp then let a puff of hot air hiss out through his nose. What else was he supposed to say? Could he even _trust_ Maurice to keep quiet? Swallowing gently, he turned his cranium and shot the royal family's hut a brief gander, making sure that they conversation was indeed confidential. The dark grey simian grunted deep in his throat, softly. ' **She is**...' Slate hesitated. ' **Kind. Different. She is not like soldiers. Not dangerous like Grey and Koba said**.'

His head turned and Maurice once again gave him that look of distant recognition, as if he saw something within the other ape that brought back memories. Whether they were good or bad, he was unsure. Realizing just what he had said, he took a deep breath, eyes sincere for the first time in a long time. His usual austerity was gone, yet nonetheless hung in the background like a looming cloud. ' **Is she a friend**?' Maurice asked. ' **Your friend**?'

Slate felt a twinge of anger in his chest and fought the urge to growl at him, his brisk attitude returning. ' _ **No**_ ,' he signed sharply. ' **She's human. Humans are no good. Threat to ape life.** ' There was a heavy silence as Maurice eyed him, brow lowering.

' **You're too proud** ,' pointed out the auburn simian. ' **You sound like** -'

"Maurice," a young voice broke through their conversation. ' **Why didn't you wake me up**?' Slate's head rose and he straightened up, acknowledging the next male to approach. Dark hair and a pale face made him a worthy advocate for any female's desire. Cornelius was getting older, now at the age of five, and maturing well. The more Slate looked at the prince, the more he saw Caesar and Cornelia. The chimp's deep forest-green eyes fell upon his own set, to which he responded with a respectful grunt and shuffled over, offering more space between he and Maurice. Thankfully, the prince would not only be changing the subject, but he would be separating him from the inquisitive orangutan.

The next to join was a near hairless figure, stone-grey in color with two golden-flecked eyes. The bulky chimp came to settle beside Slate, upon his opposite side. ' **Slate, how's the hunting**?' signed Rocket. The aging male was guardian of the young prince alongside of Maurice, the two being left Cornelius in exchange for their king's life. It had been a solemn few months after Caesar's fall, the entire tribe unsure of how to move on. It hadn't been until Rocket had finally pulled himself together that order had returned and a plan had been formed. Still, it was evident that the pain had hardened him. Tinker even admitted so.

' **Pine is out leading the first party** ,' he responded nonchalantly, glancing over at the arch in the trees and the sandy beginnings of the pass. ' **Didn't have to ask him. I've been skinning and constructing in his place**.'

Rocket's grey head bobbed. ' **You two are fine hunters. I expect nothing less** ,' praised the chimp. He then looked him over as he scratched his worn cheek. ' **You look tired**.'

 _Really_? Slate pant-chuffed softly in amusement. ' **Hard work, lots**.'

' **You and the other males are bringing in a lot of food** ,' Cornelius interjected, joining the conversation. ' **Makes me wonder what I could catch**.' Suddenly Slate didn't feel so comfortable. Most of the royal family surrounded him, speaking to him like he belonged there. It happened far too often, and although he appreciated it, Slate wasn't one to really talk with others unless Pine were around.

' **I'm sure Pine would like you to join him** ,' Slate suggested politely. ' **Hunting is good this season**.' Although it was encouraged, the prince would usually spent his day visiting with the females and helping tend to gardening; either that, or he'd be off learning with Maurice. He would make a wonderful warrior one day… once he fit in his father's shoes. Rocket and the orangutan would surely mold him soon enough to make a glorious king.

" **How is… Poppy**?" asked Cornelius. The two had been good friends when he had been growing up. Slate felt sympathy for the prince. He had lost his father at a young age, and so when he had been bounced between member after member, he had grown closer to his young friends than his advisers. Even Lake had noticed this.

' **Well** ,' Slate responded. " **Still wants to… work in medicine**."

' **She needs more confidence** ,' Rocket piped up, dry croaks leaving his throat. His face was stern and cold. ' **She has potential, she just needs guidance**.'

Maurice burbled and their heads all shifted to look upon the orangutan. He shot Rocket a glance, then the others. ' **She should speak with Tinker. Sparrow and she would surely take her under their wing**.'

Slate's attention had followed Cornelius, watching the busy bustle of the grounds not far from them. After a while, Rocket huffed and rose, taking his leave. Observing as the grey chimp sauntered off, most likely in search of his mate, Slate wondered if maybe it wouldn't be that bad of an idea of bringing more up to him rather than Maurice. He seemed to have the right attitude about what to do with humans.

The prince nudged him out of the blue. ' **Do you think Rocket would let me go with Pine**?' The male remained silent, glancing over at Maurice. The orangutan shrugged. ' **I have wanted to for a while. If you'll have me**..' Slate couldn't help but smile softly, brows furrowed.

' **Not my call** ,' responded the brute. ' **You're old enough to, though. Maybe the next hunt Rocket comes too**?' Reaching over, he gave the prince a tap on the cheek. Giving him a tilt of his head and a grunt, he finished, ' **Patience. It's what your father would do**.'

This clearly didn't sit well with the restless young Cornelius. It was obvious that Rocket wasn't fond of the idea of him going hunting with a big party. He was protective. Cornelius cast his eyes away and shied from Slate's touch. ' **Rocket is not my father**.' Hauling himself to his quads, the prince leapt from where they were settled on the outcrop and made for the opposite direction. Slate frowned.

Cornelius stopped though, the pale-faced ape rising to his hind legs at the distant sound of alarm calls. Confused, Maurice straightened up as well- in fact, _the entire clear_ had stopped what they were doing as suddenly Sage came racing in, sand flying up behind him. A great ruckus suddenly erupted as others began to cry out, fur rising on end. The hunting party had arrived. There was a flurry of dark fur as a gorilla strode in among the collecting apes, all crowding around what they had successfully caught. Soon, the hoots and hollers of excitement turned into elated screams, and as Slate peered forward through the bodies, he caught sight of a flash of faded blue and violet. Uncomfortable being in a place he needn't be, the male jumped from where he had been settled and skirted through the ballistic throng of apes, all spears and flashing teeth. He eventually came to an overhang and leapt, pulling himself up to watch the struggle as someone was being dragged into the community. The crowd pushed forward until they finally came to surround the boulder in which Maurice and now Cornelius were positioned. Rocket soared up with a powerful jump and whirled around, pant-hooting until his lungs would surely burst in order to silence the mob. It wasn't until Cornelius had had enough, his hand rising and a violent roar escaping him that the entire clear fell deathly reticent. Apes hung from the dogwood tree, stood in the treeline and rocked restlessly; a few females, including Nova, were settled off on the edge, watching apprehensively. Off in the distance, a squirrel chattered.

Suddenly, something was shoved from the front of the crowd, revealing the item in question to be a human girl. Her head of stark dark-chocolate curls hung in her face and plastered to her sweaty brow, her button-up shirt half tucked and falling off her bare shoulder, her once bronze skin smeared with earth. Slate, feeling his gut tighten, crept along the edge of the stone ledge, trying to get a better look. Finally, he hopped down directly beside the outcrop and met his brother's gaze.

"Pine!" called Cornelius, panting fitfully. "What is.. the meaning of .. this?"

Of course his brother was behind this.

"Caught human… tried to escape, tried to _hurt_ apes!" Pine thundered. Her crown slowly rose, her arms hugging her trembling body. The crowd chattered and barked, the scarred brute raising her longbow and quiver up in the air above his head in triumph. "We bring here. Human needs to be punished, killed!" As Slate looked upon her, he caught sight of the face he had admittedly never wanted to see ever again, let alone within these walls. Her gentle caramel complexion was sprayed with freckles, her heart-shaped face slowly turning up toward the counsel above.

Krissa's hazel eyes were wide, damp with tears that had cut through the layers of dirt upon her cheeks. The glimpse was soon ended as suddenly her bag was tossed toward her, colliding with her back. The girl scrambled to grab her bag, keeping her body low and eventually bringing it to her chest.

Maurice barked and signed, rising to his hind legs to address the crowd as well as Cornelius. ' **We do not know this human** ,' he reasoned. ' **She could be harmless**.'

"She shot Quill!" protested Pine. The apes reacted with whoops and hoots once more. "Could _hurt more_!" Boy, was he ever loud when excited. Slate edged closer to his brother, hoping Krissa would not notice him and spot him this close. Nobody needed to know. _Nobody needed to know._ Pine's fur was bristling, his chest heaving as he took deep breaths of air, most likely to make up for how his heart raced. A permanent scowl marred his features, his spear directed straight toward Krissa's head.

' **Where did you find her**?' signed Cornelius, clearly not happy with the sight in front of him.

' **By the river. She was following it, looked like she was traveling** ,' a gorilla, Marshal, disclosed.

"I was just moving downstream!" Krissa suddenly burst. The entire colony was staggered by her interruption, some cocking their heads and glancing with open mouths and jaws up at their leaders. "Please, I-I was just defending myself. I didn't _want_ to shoot him!"

" _Lie to king_!" shrieked Sharp, who was swaying from foot to foot next to Pine, eager to spill blood just as he. "The only good human is a dead human!" His name was certainly appropriate, compared to his voice. Pine's hand moved sharply, and in correlation, the silverback pushed past Slate and grabbed a handful of her hair, yanking her head up and exposing her throat. The snarls and hiccups of sound erupted once more, only to die out as Rocket raised his hand, exchanging a glance with Maurice. There seemed to have been some conversation between the two advisers and the young prince.

' **You understand sign**?' inquired Rocket, brow lowered in bewilderment.

Wincing, she swallowed heavily and her lips parted. "Yes, I do," Krissa replied, her eyes squeezing shut as Marshal raised her up further.

' **Let her go** ,' Maurice ordered. The gorilla seemed to hesitate but eventually conceded and tossed Krissa back down to her knees. Her head bowed once again and she stilled. Suddenly, Pine shoved his spear into Slate's hands and strode out into the middle of the scene, up next to Krissa.

' **We should kill her. We don't know what she could do**!' Pine demanded, gestures violent. Slate, although hesitant, raised his brother's spear and directed it toward the human girl, joining the others. She was just a human; a murderer of his kind just like any other. **'If we do not, there could be others. Human could come back and find ape colony**.'

' **And if she is innocent of others, what then**?' Maurice protested.

"It is.. better to be _safe_!" his brother countered, his scowl souring, like he had eaten a plum still green. ' **Best destroy the threat**!' The rest of the crowd seemed to agree with this, vocalizing their support. This did not last long though. Rocket chuffed, following with a burble in Maurice's voluminous throat pouch. ' **This is not your decision** ,' the chimp signed. ' **You were to hunt, no more no less. Need I remind you of your place** -'

Suddenly Cornelius's pale hand shot out, silencing the argument between the council and the soldier. His eyes were dead-set on Krissa. "Humans… kill my _father_ ," the prince began. As if listening, the survivor's head slowly rose. Slate's grip shifted on the spear, weary. The prince turned to his advisers, forest depths crackling with emotion. ' **You expect me to have them spare her**?' With that, Cornelius turned to the crowd. "Do what you.. want with her!" he barked. The apes erupted in both glee and terror, and Slate straightened, staggered by the amount of heartlessness his young leader had. His attention then fell to Krissa, his heart hammering in his chest. Should he have stepped in before this had been decreed? Should he do it now? Stand up for her? The pressure became too much and he felt as if his head were swimming. Turning, the ape tossed Marshal Pine's spear and he pushed his way through the group, retreating.

"Stop.. no, _please_! Please, I'm alone! I'm alone, I'll do anything!" Slate had made it to the back of the ring with the mingling stragglers, waiting to hear her screams and smell the familiar bittersweet tang of copper in the air. "I'm the last one! _I'm the last one_!" No, he had hoped she had disappeared. Slate had hoped she would never show her face to him again. This was the price he paid for letting himself be tricked by that filthy animal. The only good human was a dead one. Images of what Koba had done pulsed within his aching skull: the merciless killing, the blood, the humans in _cages_ -

Maurice suddenly rumbled, subduing the cacophony of the ape colony. Astonished that there had been an interruption, the dark grey chimp turned himself around and slowly approached the dogwood tree, ambling up so he was just high enough to see what the orangutan had to say. ' **Your father also cherished humans. They raised him** ,' signed the orang. His lengthy fingers reached out and gently brushed the birthmark upon Cornelius's dark brown chest. His knuckles then pressed against him. ' **Without humans, you would not be standing where you are today.** ' Cornelius glanced between his tutor's hand and his olive tones. There was a silence so heavy that a pin dropping could startle the entire congregation. Something passed over the princes' features. Rocket's hand also snaked its way up to his shoulder. Finally, his eyes fell and he turned, dropping his his quads and galloping away.

Maurice slowly lumbered in pursuit and finally Rocket addressed the colony. ' **The human shall live until the prince and the counsel have decided her fate**.' Groans and whoops were their response; there was a clear divide in the ranks, but his word was final. Slate couldn't help but feel his grip loosen on the tree, having turned his knuckles white from the tension held in his body. The older chimp then turned and followed after the other two. The meeting was concluded and the colony began to disperse. Pine, livid, turned to Krissa. Her eyes rose slowly, but as soon as they met his elder brother's bicolored set, the scarred chimp's hand shot out and struck her across the face. A cry escaped her. Marshal reached down and hoisted her to her feet as if she were weightless, the silverback restraining her as they dragged her to the dogwood tree. Slate, apprehensive, watched as she was forced to sit while they began to bind her dainty hands behind her back. ' **No food, no water. Not until Cornelius has an answer** …' Pine ordered the gorilla.

The human was now here, in his home, and Slate knew that Pine would certainly not listen to their prince for long.

 _It's only a matter of time_ , he figured as he watched the blood dripping from Krissa's freckled nostrils, until Pine would do _worse_ to her.

And Slate wasn't sure how he'd react.

* * *

 **Author's Note : V** **oilà** **!~ _Krissa has now been introduced into the ape colony_** _ **(and was met with a not-so-warm welcome to say the least)** **. This is a big step for the strong, and a huge drama bomb, which I am happy I decided to post now. There's so much more in store from here, so its time to kick it into overdrive. Welcome to the jungle, kids!**_

 _ **Once again, thank you guys for your reviews and continuing to follow Slate and Krissa's journey so far. I'm so happy to hear from you guys, so keep the PMs and the comments up. It really helps me get my butt in gear and get writing out these chapters!**_

 _ **Thanks so much, love ya! See you in the next chapter pals~**_


	9. The Dawn (Chapter VIII)

Slate had given up on sleep long ago. He simply sat in the entrance of his hut, listening to the sound of the wind whistle through the valley and buffet the side of the mountain. Crickets serenaded those awake and asleep, a wolf's harrowing call drawing him inside once more with a deep sigh. The interior of his home was warm and dark, Poppy's soft scent like a gentle, familiar hug. The dark chimp climbed up into his nest and tucked the leaves around himself before laying back and staring up at the black. Eventually his lids became heavy and he allowed them to fall shut, rolling onto his back. Everything seemed to be falling into place, Slate slowly drifting into a coma, when suddenly his nose caught a trace of kindling burning. The room was washed in golden light, causing him to rumble in frustration. The bed shifted beside him and soon he could hear Poppy's breathing. Initially there was only silence. Something jabbed his side, and thus the chimp shot up and turned to his sister. A gentle pant escaped her, her lips pursed and her ashen eyes were soft.

' **Can you believe how Pine acted today**?' Poppy gestured. ' **Dragging a human into our camp. Acting like he was part of the ape counsel** …'

Suddenly Slate had been transported back to their younger days. "Go back to sleep," rasped the larger sibling, rolling back over. He wasn't interested in gossiping. Slate now knew what it felt like to be in Pine's shoes way back when.

 _' **I heard that mother was a queen from other apes! And father was hunter; so great, he ate eyes for breakfast**!'_

 _' **Would be awesome**!'_

 _"Shut up! Need to… sleep! Stop!"_

Poppy stirred next to him and then curled up against him. "Its.. cold in my .. nest," she murmured softly, her warm breath tickling his thick fur. Slate grunted in response, saying nothing else and shutting his eyes. No matter how old Poppy would get, it seemed as though she would always stay stuck as a white-tail… at least, that's what she would always be to him. His little sister. The chirrup of crickets that rang within his ears began to grade within his skull. With a deep sigh, he rolled over onto his back, feeling Poppy curl even closer, wrapping her arms around his own appendage. " _Slate_.." His eyes fell and he studied her wide pools of greyish-umber. ' **Pine scared me today**.' Her dark lashes fluttered.

Turning his head back to the side, he huffed heavily. ' **He scared me too** ,' admitted Slate. For a while his eyes trailed and studied the bark of the interior wall. Worms had bustled their way through, leaving little perfect tracks in their wake. Life was so simple for the worms. Rolling his head to point skyward, he sat up, Poppy following. Her curious oculars examined his face intensely, making him feel a bit uncomfortable. Slate curled his lip, earning a chuff of disapproval from his sister, her own expression souring. ' **Don't act like that around me** ,' Poppy scolded. ' **You make me feel small. I'm your sister**.'

Slate's eyes flashed, caught off guard by her sudden spitfire demeanor. ' **Sorry** ,' he reluctantly apologized. The siblings stared each other down for a while longer. She had been hanging around Lake too often. ' **That human** ,' she began, her hardened expression melting. Her signs were slow and hesitant, as if she were trying to choose her words carefully. ' **Do you think she's really bad**?' Again, more staring. Slate felt his gut telling him to keep his trap shut, but as she looked upon her with those trusting brown eyes, he knew that he could rely on her. _Right_? Pine and she had drifted apart too.. His stomach felt uneasy when he thought of this. Slate's attention fell to no place in particular.

' **They killed Caesar- Cornelia, Blue Eyes… Luca. Spear**..'

' **But Barley and Chester said they met one, and that he played with them** ,' Poppy signed, perplexed.

' **Those two probably just made that up. We were kids**..' His eyes rose and latched onto his sister's. ' **They are unpredictable. We cannot trust them**.' Slate tenderly slipped his fingers over her balled hand. Seemingly ashamed by her naive behavior, Poppy looked away, cheeks puffing and deflating. Slate couldn't help but feel sympathy for her. She was only a few days younger and still hungered for knowledge about these strange creatures as if they had never pulled their tribe apart. She had been there, pulling her weight just the same; Poppy remembered just as well as he did the night Pine had taken the lashes for her. He just couldn't wrap his mind around why she was so headstrong to believe these tales. "You saw.. How they were. The Colonel.."

 _Liar_ , a tiny voice in his head whispered. _You're a liar_.

Poppy's lowered head slowly lifted. Something flickered in her gaze. Slate continued, ' **They were on top before. It's our turn to punish them and take our place. They're rats**.'

Suddenly, his sister's hand shot out and took him by the helix piercing. Hooting in distress, he was yanked forward until they were inches apart. "You sound like.. _Koba_ ," she finally piped up, ashen pools blaring into her brother's amber set. The fur along her shoulders had risen for the first time he had seen in a long, long time. "Pine.. sounds like him.. _More_." Slate sat there, head turned at an awkward angle and pain pulsing from his strained ear. Panting, he winced until he was eventually released; his hand cast over his throbbing helix, grimacing. The chimp's eyes pinched as he watched his sister continue her spiel. ' **This human hasn't done anything**.'

' **It shot Quill** ,' pointed out Slate.

His sister looked ready to cuff him one, holding back a series of pant-barks. ' ** _She_ was trying to protect herself**...'

' **We don't know that** ,' Slate dismissed, waving a hand and shifting his weight.

Poppy let out a loud hiss through her nose and removed her gaze from her sibling, embittered. There was a long reticence. He had to admit, he wasn't surprised when they said she had shot Quill. Slate knew Krissa had good aim. It was a pain in the behind, but he couldn't deny how he had gawked when he had watched the human rise and stretch her strong, lean arms and shoulders back, drawing her bow. Rubbing at his helix, he too let out a sigh. Wearily glancing at the small female, he hesitated before he finally shook his head and peered at her with biting amber eyes. A small frown laced his lips. Damn his soft spot. "Krissa," corrected the chimp, blinking softly. Poppy's head snapped up. "Her name… is _Krissa_."

At first, Poppy eyeballed him, not making sense of what he was saying. ' **You know the human**?' Laughter suddenly bubbled from her lips like a hot spring, spilling out into the air with that chuffing guffaw of her's. Finally, she sighed and reached forward, giving him a shove of her long fingers. ' **You shouldn't joke. Pine would be mad**.'

Careless at this point, Slate shuffled onto his knuckles and hopped from his bedding. Once at the door, he paused and looked back at his sister. Slate coaxed her to follow him, to which she replied with a look of utter confusion. " _Slate_.." she panted, although pursued her older brother despite her expression of concern. The two slipped out into the ghostly-lit path, creeping along the winding ledge and peering out over the edge to the sharp drop below. A patch of ivy wound its way down along the trampled trail, it's fingers reaching and grabbing, leaves pooling around their ankles as they stepped through it. They broke out into the clear. Slate first saw her silhouette beneath the towering dogwood and it's gnarled branches. Her head was bowed against her chest. Pausing, he waited for Poppy to catch up, feeling her hovering behind him cautiously. The dark chimp was about to take a few more steps and make his way over to her, when suddenly his sister's hand latched onto his shoulder. Pulling him back onto his haunches, she pointed toward the silverback, Marshal, settled not far off and keeping an eye on her from in front of a crackling fire.

Although reluctant to admit it, he was glad she was there to help. Slate motioned for her to stay back and galloped forward, moving past Krissa's resting form and heading straight for Marshal. The silverback's head rose from where it had been lowered to the flames and he greeted him with a rumble in his chest. A puff passed through Slate's lips. ' **I was sent to relieve you** ,' motioned the hunter. There was a beat where the beastly ape rose and towered over him, inspecting him thoroughly with suspicious eyes. Marshal shot a glance over his shoulder and Slate prayed that Poppy wasn't in sight.

' **Pine sent me** …' Marshal slowly nodded his massive black head and passed his spear over to him. The perks of being your brother's notorious twin… The gorilla took his time in leaving: Slate watched his every move, growing deathly still as Marshal paused in front of the slumbering flower. There was tension hanging in the air, crackling vigorously until he finally ventured onward and knuckled out of sight. Slate peered up at the royal family's hut up the way. This was risky. Pine had a good portion of the ape colony against Krissa, and if he had that much of an influence, what would happen if he found out that his own brother was friends with this creature?

Finally, he dropped the weapon without another thought and cleared the distance between him and the tree, Poppy approaching as well, albeit cautiously. Shooting Poppy a look, he then apprehensively reached forward and nudged her with a grunt. Her eyes shot open and she lunged forward, raven curls a mess. In the dappled of milky light, blood was visible still staining her nostrils and supple lips. Krissa wrenched her shoulders and struggled against her restraints, trying to move away from the two chimps in front of her. " _Get away_! Don't-"

Croaking in alarm, he began to sign, trying to get her to recognize him in her panic. ' **Krissa. Krissa**.' She seemed to be confused at first, the commotion causing Poppy to duck behind her brother, letting out a series of frightened _hoo_ s. It was quite amusing, coming from someone who had just been preaching about how humans might be peaceful. Although Slate didn't notice, she signed desperately, ' ** _We shouldn't do this_**!'

All at once, Slate moved closer and groaned, followed with a series of vigorous huffs. ' **What happened? Where were you**?'

" _Please_ …" she whimpered, trying to kick him away with a foot, voice rising in volume in hopes that someone would help her. " _Just leave me alone_ -" The ape immediately grabbed her flying limb and yanked her forward, his opposite hand coming to clamp over her mouth. He could hear her breathing and feel her trembling, her jaw so delicate in his grasp. Their eyes met and soon her writhing slowed, recognition washing over her features. Slowly, Slate removed his hand from her mouth, revealing her lips to be parted in shock. Her breath smelled sour and sickly, and her skin was pale and clammy. Poppy shifted from behind him, rasping softly in confusion. Krissa's eyes darted from him to his sister. "Slate, what are you-" The chimp shook his head and reached around her, moving to unbind her hands. Once she was free, she began to wring at her appendages.

' **Sign** ,' he ordered, sitting back on his haunches again. ' **Hurt**?'

' **Just bruised** ,' she responded. A pang of frustration resonated within Slate's chest. He reached out, brushing her nose and upper lip with his index and middle finger, feeling the sticky surface of her bloodied flesh. The girl jolted away, flinching at his touch. ' **He hit me, that's all**.' They exchanged a dirty look before Krissa obviously became curious about the smaller chimp behind him. Slate tilted himself and coaxed her over, Poppy gawking at how they interacted. She appeared to be speechless. ' **My sister. Poppy** ,' he introduced, his hand coming to rest on her back. The contact caused Poppy to wheel on her brother, giving him a snap of irritation, before she finally turned back to Krissa. Creeping forward, she came to settled close to her, extending a hand. Slate observed as the two cooperated so well, his sister examining the bruises on her wrists and arms.

' **You _do_ know her**?' Poppy finally questioned, ashen eyes flashing. ' **You did not help her!** '

Slate bared his teeth at his gutsy sibling. ' **Pine would have caused too much trouble. Might have killed her. Don't blame me**!'

' **No, it's alright** ,' assured Krissa, solemnly glancing between the two. She looked exhausted. ' **I'm really okay. I'm glad the others spared me**.'

' **Might not spare for long** ,' his sister quickly pointed out. Her long face turned to Slate. ' **Needs water, food. Can't just leave her out here like this**.'

The brute glanced off over his shoulder, then back at the females; they were both different species, yet expressed the same amount of desperation. Poppy rose and strode over to her brother. ' **She smells sick. Didn't you notice? _Sick_** ,' she stormed. ' **Pine took her while she was weak**!' Slate shifted and Poppy tapped the side of his head. Grunting, he shied away, giving her a scornful look. He hated being touched and she knew that. ' **What kind of friend are you? If you won't help her, I will. Dumb male**.' This struck a chord, making him realize just how empathetic his sister was. Okay, maybe he was being a bit of a bear. Turning, the small dark chimp returned to Krissa. Poppy rose to her hind legs and helped support the woman as she struggled to her own feet. Slate watched as Krissa leaned against her, taking note of how she wobbled.

As soon as they were out from beneath the inky shadow of the dogwood tree, it was very apparent that her face was blanched in color, her eyes lined with dark rings. Didn't she say she couldn't get sick or something? Reluctantly giving in, Slate hauled himself to his hind limbs and took over, pulling the survivor's lean extremity over his shoulder and taking her weight upon himself. Poppy, grateful, flashed him a smile and lead Krissa forward with a gentle hand.

They didn't make it far though.

* * *

Krissa finished vomiting what little contents she had within her stomach, feeling meaty hiccups lurch up into her throat but nothing more escaping. The taste of bile was strong in her mouth, having been that way for a few days now, given that toothpaste wasn't an option lately. After a moment of catching her breath, she struggled to her feet and the trio continued to sneak along the sandy path. Torch light bathed them in a pool of warmth, then faded as they reached their first checkpoint. Her head felt as if it were spinning, her gaze flickering across her surroundings as she hobbled along. Slate's head occasionally tilted as he lead the way, offering a glimpse of his steely expression. The survivor wasn't quite sure how or why, but he had come to her aid and boy, was she relieved. Poppy, as she had been introduced as, handled her with gentle hands, which she was thankful for. Her body was so sore.

Finally, they came to a hut nestled into the tree line, the ledge thankfully quite a few feet away. She had already hung her head over the edge once as she had been hurling and the drop was drastic, disappearing into an inky black that seemed to swallow everything it touched. Hurrying inside, she was directed to a bed of woodwardia ferns and thick spongy moss, a series of branches holding the materials in place. Krissa was surprised when she sank down among the flora, her exhausted body enveloped in the earthy undertones of the nest. Poppy, after brushing some of her curls from her sweaty complexion, crossed over to a hanging basket. Puffs of air escaped her nostrils as she thumbed her way through the woven container, in search of something in particular.

In the meantime, her head tilted down and she gazed over at her brother. So they were family? She hadn't thought about that before- she had always assumed that he was just a single entity, almost as if he had had no ties to this colony. Slate's head turned and he caught her peering at him.

' **How long have you all lived here**?' she signed weakly.

Although appearing to be uncomfortable, brow knit, Slate responded. ' **Here? This winter will make it three years**.' Poppy, holding something within her hands, exited with a fair amount of haste. She would surely return though.

' **You traveled all the way down to come see me**?' Krissa marveled, a faint smile twitching at her lips. Slate stiffened, body language communicating clearly that he didn't like her mild amusement. Before he could really snap at her in embarrassment, Poppy suddenly returned with a chipped old mug, grunting softly toward her. Krissa forced herself to sit up, her tired bones aching as she did so. The bruises on her legs were apparent in the candle light, blossoming dark violet across her bronze skin. With careful extremities, he brought the cup to her lips and tilted, allowing her to sip the water within. The cool sensation of the liquid slipping down her throat caused her to sigh, gulping down little sips at a time. Poppy finally handed it to the survivor and began to offer her small deep-green leaves. The smell of mint tickled her nose.

' **Chew** ,' directed Poppy, the two swapping a look. Krissa finally nodded and popped the leaf into her mouth, biting down. The taste was sharp, the aroma of peppermint spreading across her tongue. Wrinkling her nose, she continued until it was pulverized just right, and then swallowed. Krissa then took another sip of her water before allowing the blood to be removed from her face by Poppy's probing fingers. ' **You are dehydrated. Once your belly feels better, we can feed you something**.' Shuffling a few steps back, Poppy then settled in front of the bed Slate was rested upon. Krissa now felt like she was inside of a fish-bowl, being stared at by the two.

Shifting her weight, she came to lay down on her side, blinking softly. ' **Thank you** ,' Krissa acknowledged gratefully. Feeling so frail, she had rested beneath the tree and slowly watched as the stars had come out, the sun disappearing behind the camp and the little blips of fires being lit flickering to life. If it hadn't been for the ache in her bones or the cramps in her stomach, she would have been able to enjoy the view. Shivering, she curled into herself, thumbs gently tracing along the lip of the mug. ' **I don't know how much longer I would have lasted**.'

' **You need lots of water** ,' Poppy advised. Then, her brown eyes flickered up toward Slate. As they communicated back and forth, it was obvious that there was a huge difference between the two: one smaller, one large. The eldest sibling was cold and rough around the edges, whereas Poppy was sweet and tender. Still, they were also both dark in color, their faces nearly the color of coal just as their pelts were; Poppy was untouched and slender, whereas Slate adorned a few scars and burly muscles, his septum and helix both pierced with what appeared to be some sort of quills. He looked so mean and feral. The two seemed to make conversation, when suddenly Slate broke the silence, chuffing. Her eyes, which had become heavy, snapped open. ' **You were brought here by a hunting party. Where have you been**?' he asked.

Krissa hesitated, her gaze averting for a moment. Was it wise to tell him? This is Slate. He's kept you safe, even now. Of course you can trust him, she chided inwardly. "I was.." She paused, swallowing as her voice rasped in her throat. She decided it was wise to use her hands and set the cup down beside the nest, slowly sitting up. ' **I decided to head further downstream, over near the waterfall.** '

' **How did they find you**?' Poppy asked, obviously beating Slate to it.

' **I just ran into them. They were fishing when I found them… I didn't think I'd find your kind down there** ,' shrugged Krissa. She shook her head and sighed heavily. ' **I thought I'd be safe. I should have stayed put**.'

"We .. moved. Apes _moved_ ," Slate huffed.

Krissa's brows rose. "Is that why you suddenly disappeared?"

Poppy's eyes drifted to her brother's face, trying to comprehend what exactly was going on. He was obviously perplexed, eyes narrowed as he struggled to understand. "Had to work-"

' **Disappeared**?' questioned the female.

"Your brother.. He would come and watch me from time to time," clarified the human. "Not as often at first, but it became more frequent as time went along."

Slate's fur was rising. ' **I was keeping an eye on her. Making sure she wasn't a danger to us**.'

' **I don't think she could ever be a danger to us** ,' mused Poppy, smiling toward Krissa. _Ouch_. Okay, maybe she had a point… Slate looked as if he could pick her up and throw her a good thirty feet. ' **We are many, she is alone**.'

"He actually stole my book and destroyed it. I thought I wouldn't see him again, but he came back. He even brought back another novel for me," she remarked. She then frowned, amusement draining from her face. Her gut rolled at the thought of the scarred brute who had struck her across the face. "Your friend has it," croaked the survivor. "It's in my bag."

' **Pine**?'

' **Pine, the one with strange eyes**?' added Slate, leaning forward.

"And the scars- _yeah_ , him." You could hear a pin drop in their humble hut, the crickets filling the lull in activity. A coyote cried off in the distance. Krissa didn't quite understand why they stared at her again, exchanging a look of weariness. They obviously knew this ape, but what was creating such a permanent gap? Why were they glancing at one another like that? Slate was clearly frustrated and hopped down onto the ground, rising to his hind legs and groaning restlessly as he exited the hut.

"Am I _missing_ something?" she inquired, blinking at the two.

' **Pine is our brother. He's the oldest** ,' Poppy explained. ' **He and Slate don't exactly like humans** …' She visibly swallowed and shook her head, her chin tilting downward. Rising, she swayed over to the cup on the ground and offered it to her once more, forcing her to take a drink. Sipping her drink, she numbly recalled Pine's appearance. She put two-and-two together, and could definitely confirm the similarities.

' **Why isn't he here with you two**?' signed Krissa, using her free hand. The cup was finished and resting back down in the musty earth beneath.

' **He lives with his mate, Spoon**.'

Understanding now, Krissa nodded. The silence returned once more as Slate entered, hand balled as he offered her something. Shoving his fist into her face, she drew back at first, but then took his gift and held out her own cupped palms. What was dumped into her waiting hands was a series of sunflower seeds. Hesitant, she dipped her head gratefully and began to pop them in her mouth, shelling and then retrieving the delicious bit inside. Krissa hoped they would sit well. ' **How did you get sick**?' asked Slate.

"Bad meat, I think. That, or under-cooked," she responded gently, spitting out of the shells. Poppy appeared to cringe and then frowned.

Slate had already disregarded her reply, and was now scolding her. ' **The waterfall, really**?'

' **I didn't think I'd find any of you guys there**!' protested Krissa.

The ape wrinkled his nose and gestured directly toward her. ' **Those are our fishing grounds now**!' He was obviously not impressed with her. It had been stupid to assume, Krissa would give him that, but how could she have known? With a growl of frustration, she laid back down and covered her face with her hands. He was being such an ass right now… Slate knuckled away and came to sit next to his sister, giving an aggravated rumble. Her hands fell to her bare stomach with a slap. "If you had been around, maybe you could have _told_ me," she argued.

Slate erupted in a sharp pant-bark and shot up from where he had been crouched, but was thwarted as Poppy grabbed hold of him, sitting him back down. ' **Be quiet, both of you**!' she ordered, glaring from one to the other. ' **We don't want to get caught**.'

' **I'm sorry** ,' Krissa surrendered. ' **And I'm sorry for hurting Quill**.'

* * *

Their little tiff had seemed like a dream after Krissa had returned to the dogwood tree. She remembered the pain in Poppy's eyes as she had rolled the sleeves of her faded blue and purple striped button-up and tied her hands back up. The female chimp had apologized profusely, her grievous emotion honest and true. Krissa had to admit, she had felt seriously bad for risking their safety; their brother was a mean old thing, and judging by how he sounded, he was capable of a lot more than just a measly slap. Slate, in the meantime, had taken up the gorilla's position once more without so much as a glance in her direction. Although she was in a foreign place and she was unsure of what her ultimate fate would be, she felt a bit more safe now that she had the two siblings on her side.

Thankfully the night had passed by quickly, the stars sliding earthward in trails of white light, and before Krissa knew it, she was submerged in a deliciously deep slumber. It wasn't until she felt something gently tugging at her side that her large chartreuse eyes fluttered open. Her dark lashes danced, opening to find that she was surrounded by scattered groups of chimps. They were all cautiously settled a few feet away, eyeing her and munching on their breakfast. Suddenly nervous, her cranium twisted to the right, peering at the now extinguished fire and three unfamiliar ape faces. Their heads turned, all looking at her simultaneously with prudent curiosity until their attention eventually wavered and they returned to their morning routine.

There was a gentle giggle of sound that drifted to her ears, and her head fell. Next to her, rummaging through the baggy material of her father's shirt and tugging at the belt loop on her high-waist shorts, was a baby chimp. Her large eyes turned up to face Krissa, gaping at her and reaching a hand out curiously, earning a gentle bray from what the human assumed as her mother. Sitting up, she felt the baby chimp flinch and watched her scamper away, back to her mother. Exchanging a glance with the pale-faced female, she felt her cheeks burn in shame. They were all staring, as if she were some sort of caged animal that could lash out and bite. Here she was, tied up and defenseless, and they couldn't even venture any closer to her even if they wanted to. Krissa now understood how her people had treated their's. Shivering against the morning chill, Krissa huddled into her father's old flannel, feeling uneasy as they all stirred uncomfortably from where they sat. Resting her head back against the bark of the tree she was inclined against, she allowed her eyes to follow the milky puffs of clouds that passed over, the warm sunshine bathing her as it peeked over the horizon at last. Krissa took a deep breath and shut her eyes, sighing softly.

Time passed. All she could do, she figured, was try and rest more. She didn't want to be weak if they actually let her go. If she hadn't been tied up and at their mercy, she would find this actually quite peaceful. Perhaps she would have even interacted with some. A strange sound abruptly drew her attention to her right, the creature plodding its way over, slowly but surely, startling her. It was like that of a raccoon's chuckle, but deeper and more throaty, as if he had a bubble within his vocal chords. He was massive, great columns of auburn draping over his long, powerful arms. His belly was round and his face was flat, like a satellite dish; pressed inside of that stark leatherlike face were two emerald and olive-flecked eyes. They were owlish and tender, which Krissa found oddly comforting. This was the orangutan who had spared her life and convinced their prince to wait at least a few more days. He pressed his knuckles down into the dirt and then swung his hind legs forward, lumbering over in her direction.

He was certainly confident in himself as the other chimps leered at him, inquisitive about his choice. When he was close enough, Krissa could hear his heavy breathing whistling through his nostrils- she could even pinpoint the grey hairs within the tangles upon his chin. There was a great puff as he rested down in the cool dirt beside her, gaze turning out toward the ball of fire drifting up into the cerulean sky. Apprehensive, she mirrored him and tucked her legs into herself. There was a moment of silence, the birds singing, the distance sound of pant-hooting off in the woods indicating that a hunt was underway. She suddenly remembered the mention of Slate's eldest brother from the eve before, and she stirred uncomfortably. Krissa hoped he wasn't around.

' **You need not worry** ,' the orangutan signed. The human blinked. Turning his head, he gave her a knowing look. Krissa swallowed heavily and felt her hands twitch from where they were tied. Right, she was restrained… straightening up, she felt her gut rumble but ignored it.

" _Worry_?" she croaked softly. The apes within earshot all turned their heads to gaze at the duo beneath the dogwood tree. She nearly snorted. "I'm tied up… how could I not worry?"

' **You're afraid, it is very obvious** ,' replied the massive ape. Krissa felt her jaw tighten and said nothing in response, her neck flushing in shame. The ape seemed indifferent as he noticed this, continuing on. ' **The ape that found you is not a fan of humans. What he tends to forget is that Nova is human, just like you, and lives among us in peace**.' Her gut just about did flips and she sat up straight, glancing around in search of any sign of another human. He had to be pulling on her leg… these creatures couldn't possibly- ' **She is asleep up there** ,' clarified the orang as he gestured toward a rather large hut nestled up a few levels, nestled within the treeline. ' **It is still early. You should rest as well**.'

Krissa took a deep breath. "It's kind of hard to when you have hundreds of eyes on you," she mused dryly. Her hazel eyes ghosted across the many faces still turned in their direction, fixated by the sound of her voice. Her throat began to tighten and she felt the need to shrink into herself. Was she that much of a freak to their kind? "Why haven't you killed me yet?" asked Krissa, turning her eyes over to the patient orangutan. "Didn't your prince give orders?"

' **Cornelius is not the only one with power around here. He still has much to learn** ,' he replied, burbling once again. Her head tilted gently, her raven brows furrowing. Cornelius, huh? Seemed to fit him. ' **Your life has as much worth as Nova's. He is beginning to realize that now**.' Krissa shuffled and positioned herself so that she could face the orangutan, studying his actions. He had excellent sign. ' **Caesar, his father, would have not been as impatient. He was raised by humans and knew of their good side. Cornelius is young and blind, for his family's death was at the hand of a human.** ' As he explained, it began to make sense. There was no doubt in her mind that humans were certainly despised by the ape colony, but she had never thought of it like that.

"I see…" Krissa murmured, nodding. Her eyes dropped to her ankles and her bare feet. Her heels had been bleeding from digging them into the ground while she had been dragged. A red-winged blackbird shrieked from somewhere off in the woods behind them. "I'm sorry for shooting Quill," she finally piped up, gaze finding the orangutan's wise set. "I didn't want to shoot him, but I was scared and I had no choice."

' **Quill will heal. He is young and strong** ,' the orangutan remarked, seeming to smile softly. His hands balled into fists, bringing them together in a sign she did not recognize. He then continued on with reassuring Krissa. ' **You need not fret. He needs to learn to keep himself calm anyway**.'

Unsure of why, she smiled and laughed softly. "He does seem the easily excitable type," she added softly. Why was this so amusing to her? Perhaps it was the dehydration going to her head. Their eyes met once more, this time the gap being filled with an absence of conversation.

' **What is your name**?' signed the orangutan, pressing his index and middle finger together on each hand, and then tapping them together in a faint up-and-down motion.

Surprised, the young woman's brows rose. "Krissa.. My name is Krissa."

The auburn beast burbled contently and nodded his head, then peered at her with smiling eyes. ' **M-A-U-R-I-C-E** ,' he spelled in response.

" _Mo_... Maurice," echoed Krissa, earning a garble of approval from the him. That's when the orangutan leaned closer and snaked his hand behind her, using his coriaceous mitts to snap the rope without so much as a thought. As soon as her arms fell slack, she let out a hiss and drew her hands up in front of her, rolling her stiff joints. Feeling along the imprints from her horribly coarse bindings, she couldn't help but feel relief wash over her. Krissa marveled as stretched her arms above her head, ignoring how the apes seemed to take notice and let out little huffs. It felt good to stretch again, and she turned a grateful grin toward Maurice. 'It's nice to meet you,' she signed finally.

Just as the conversation died off, there was a familiar bray that came to her ears. Krissa's head turned, her attention falling upon Poppy, whose eyes were trained upon her fro a group of grooming females. All were tense and peering at her. Initially the female glanced around at her fellow apes, but soon enough she rose and approached with confidence. She came to settled down next to Krissa, reaching out and taking her hands. ' **How are you feeling**?' signed the slender dark ape.

' **Better this morning** ,' replied Krissa, nodding hesitantly as she peered around.

Maurice gurgled beside the two and gave her a knowing look. His movements were faint, keeping his next remark more confidential. ' **I'm sure you are grateful that Poppy and her brother came to your aid last night**...' Krissa felt her heart palpitate and turned to look upon Poppy, the dark-faced female tilting her head gently at her. Swallowing nervously, her lashes fluttered furiously. Poppy glanced between her and Maurice, then nodded softly.

Krissa allowed her fingers to lace with the female next to her, her cranium tilting to face the orangutan once more.

' **Yes, I am** ,' she finally came to answer.

* * *

 **Author's Note: _A very peaceful chapter, don't you think? Wholesome (minus Slate being cranky)._**

 _ **Thank you for all the encouragement lately. I really like to hear from you guys! Next chapter will be on its way soon, don't worry.**_

 _ **Love y'all 3**_


	10. The Brothers (Chapter IX)

The sun created a honey glow that stretched across the forest floor in shafts, breaking into fractals and scattering in dapples as it danced across the greenery. It was cool that morning, the apes' breath coming in gentle clouds of condensation from their lips and nostrils. Pine stirred next to his twin, the two waiting intently for the proper moment. They were hunting from two different stand-points, some settled in the foliage, some in the trees. Pine and Slate's knuckles brushed, their spears hovering parallel to one another as they rested over the slope, watching the massive fuzzy shapes as they grazed peacefully. The scarred chimp had hunger pains in his gut, and the thought of venison made him feel the need to lick his chops. Slate's nose twitched and his hand stirred. ' **You sure this will work**?' asked his younger brother. Pine felt anger boil in his chest. Of course it would work! He gave Slate a hardened bicolored gaze, patchy irises flashing, although he kept his irritated grunts silent. His brother always had his doubts about him when a plan didn't seem completely foolproof. What did he know?

' **It will** ,' he confirmed arrogantly.

' **All you caught last time was a scrawny human** ,' Slate pointed out. ' **And some fish**.' His amber depths always had this air to them, as if he could see through him and pick out all the faults in the grand design of things; as if he knew more than he, as if he were superior. As if he would do a better job at hunting than he. Pine could strangle him. Rolling his two-toned peepers, he brought a hand to his tattered and nearly non-existent ear, and scratched. Gnats buzzed around their heads, which they ignored. It was normal when the weather was changing. Soon the leaves would change color and the some females would decorate their headdresses, and the little ones would make their leaf collections with Maurice.

This was how Caesar had done it, right? How Koba had? Pine knew he was doing his deceased elders a favor. If the battered bonobo were still around, he'd know exactly what to do in Cornelius' place. He didn't see prince Cornelius out here, leading the hunts. Maybe even Blue Eyes could have lead, if it hadn't been for the humans. Anybody would have been better than the soft prince of the Oasis, as he and his companions called him. ' **Are you in charge of this hunt**?' Pine accused. Curling his lip, ' **I know what I'm doing. Now shut your mouth**.'

Turning his attention back up toward the treeline, he gave the first signal. Tension built as they pressed forward up the hill, the ranks coming into place. The air quivered, a few of the herbivores becoming glued to the spot, their ears swiveling vigorously. Pine's group waited with anticipation, eyes darting from him to their prey. The rush that he felt as they all looked to him as their leader, all waiting for his call, his orders- it felt glorious. His fur began to bristle along his shoulders. They would wait until he began the hunt. The swelling in his chest became immense, a wicked grin curling at his lips as he now sat crouched on the slope. Suddenly, one of the massive beasts spooked. Immediately, a mighty roar bursting from the male's lips as they burst through the vegetation, Pine the closest to the herd as it fled. The ground shook with the thunder of hooves as the deer leapt over logs and jagged stones. Pine had lost sight of Slate at this point, his eyes now searching for a limping stag, an ill doe, or perhaps even a fawn- if he were lucky. As soon as Pine's group was in sight, the troop above soared to the ground, some landing upon their prey and some ducking among the bodies cutting through the air. A few hunters were kicked at or bowled over, the herd's numbers bleeding through and managing to escape like sand through one's fingers. Apes broke off in quadrants and pursued their own, Pine proudly falling in behind a doe as she dragged her back leg into the tall redwoods. He took to the closest tree, leaping from trunk to trunk and keeping an eye on her as she slowed, beginning to believe that she was indeed safe. Peering closely at the wounded doe, he noticed a familiar piece of artillery sticking out of her injured haunch, revealing the source of her pain. The arrow was mottled at the tail, feathers frayed from being dragged through coarse undergrowth. Perhaps this human had ended up useful after all.

Movement flickered in the tree parallel to him, revealing his dark-faced sibling. This brought yet another shiver of pride to his hammering heart; despite having been at each other's throats more often than not, he was finally able to assist Pine in a kill. This female was easily slaughtered with her wound, and being alone, they had even more of a chance at success. Easy pickings. Pine signed, ' **Care for a competition**?' A cocky sneer laced his lips, sharp teeth flashing and his marred nose wrinkling.

Slate's head bobbed in reply, his stone-faced facade remaining stagnant. He didn't seem as thrilled as he, but nonetheless, he joined in. Slate let out a pant-hoot, shriller than it usually would be, and alerted the doe to their presence. She bolted and they were off to the races. Jolly barks escaped Pine as he resorted to swinging, his body crashing through the redwoods, moss flying to the ground as his hands practically peeled it from the strong overhanging branches. It wasn't until Pine shot the neighboring tree across the clear was empty, and that Slate was way ahead, his spear clamped between his teeth. A desperate bubble of adrenaline burst within his belly and he threw himself earthward, landing inches behind the doe with a bellow. To the left he bounded, throwing a rock with a swift, quick hand and taking out her injured leg. The doe skidded, bleating in terror, and just as she fell to the forest floor, Slate landed directly in front of her. In her moment of fright, she slowly looked up at Pine's twin, watching as his body rise to full height upon sturdy hind legs, his teeth bared and carnal, and his spear raising with graceful poise. The warpaint that they typically used paled his dark features and fur, a line of royal scarlet smeared down between his brow and the bridge of his nose. All apes now bore this single drop of red in honor of Caesar.

This was his kill. His brother had earned it fair and square. Pine couldn't help but feel his gut sour. He wanted to be proud and impressed, but all he felt was… was ..

Before the kill could be made, the sound of triumphant calls alerted them to the fourth troop. They had caught something successfully, and in that lull, the doe staggered to all fours. Pine, furious, darted forward and took hold of the arrow, only for it to tear out when his twin's hand collided with his chest. The doe ran free, albeit in a rather unsteady fashion. Sage and Sharp's howls and brays of celebration only aggravated him more. His marred face crumpled and his cranium snapped around to face his brother. ' **You let her get away** ,' he signed.

' **They've caught one. It's enough for today** ,' Slate explained, passively moving his gaze away, moving forward.

Pine couldn't believe his brother! Letting a chance at additional meat? What was he so dead-set on? They needed it- to feed _apes_! "Caught.. enough?" he echoed, voice rasping and whistling in his throat. ' **Winter is coming soon. Why let an opportunity go**?' His brother blatantly ignored him. Anger welling, he huffed and gritted his teeth. Turning away from Slate, he glared at the arrow in his grip. If he was going to let the doe go, fine by him… it would be _his_ catch.

His brother's pants alerted him and he glanced over his shoulder. Slate was perched atop a fallen timber, his hand extended. Dropping to his quads, he stalked away, picking up his spear.

Slate always felt too much.

* * *

The kill had been made by Gregory, an orangutan with bristling hair along his crown and a missing eye. He was a gruff elder, but nonetheless followed orders from younger apes peacefully, unlike others his age. He understood many things, and for a while Slate wondered why he hadn't taken up teaching like Maurice. It wasn't hard to figure out that Gregory was a hunter by nature and a fighter at heart. As they returned upon the few horses the tribe had managed to find after arriving at the oasis, Slate took in the surroundings around him, eyeing the buck that hung from it's stake. This was more than enough food. The gorillas allowed the elders off their steeds and then guided them toward the clear where they were typically tied up, and under constant supervision. They then began their climb up along the secret pathways. Above, the sentries called to the colony camp of their return, pant-hooting and shrieking. The birds had been drown out at this point, their sonorous voices completely muted by the thundering greeting they were given.

He knew there would be many curious eyes at their return, but as they came to the tunnel-like canopy of entwined redwoods, he felt his skin prickle. He would surely see Krissa's chartreuse set added to the number- that is, if she were on the other side of the dogwood as she had been before. Slate straightened up as they broke through, revealing themselves the elated crowd that gathered upon the ledges and the outcrops. Bonobos, chimps, gorillas and orangutans- apes alike hooped and hollered, praising their safe arrival and, most importantly, their catch. They slowly approached the center, Slate's amber eyes immediately being drawn to the smooth surface of the lumpy and twisted dogwood, expecting to see Krissa's dainty frame.

She was gone. Just… _gone_. There was only empty space where she had once was she? What had happened while he had been gone? Breaking from the dispersing hunting group, he excused himself to some of the elders and took to the outcrop of stone as quickly as he could. Slate then hastily ambled along the rocks to the royal hut. Pushing his way inside, he found a few pairs of curious eyes drifting toward him. Cornelius, Rocket, Maurice and Lake all sat around the crackling hearth, the flames dancing orange and yellow. Suddenly realizing that he had intruded, he knuckled forward and slowed as he neared, bowing his head. Offering his outstretched palm in apology, he remained crouched, motionless. Maurice burbled and he felt a set of gently fingers grace across his extremity. As soon as his eyes drifted upwards, he was nearly bowled over by how close Lake was to him. ' **What brings you here**?' she inquired.

The rest seemed content with where they sat as the young female addressed him. He felt as though he could still feel her hand, even as he came to sit upon his haunches and allowed it to fall limp as he rested his forearm down. Using his spear to support him, Slate glanced between the royal family. ' **The human. Where is she**?' He tried to ignore Maurice's insightful gaze. Lake glanced among the others to her right. ' **Not tied up. Might be dangerous**.'

' **Maurice thinks otherwise** ,' Rocket pointed out, exchanging a look among themselves. The orangutan burbled and bobbed his head, agreeing with his fellow ape. Suddenly, Slate felt as if he were being examined under a microscope. The prince was silent as the grave, and Rocket now studied him with probing emerald eyes. The elder chimp sat up and leaned forward, knuckles pressing into the ground. ' **Your brother. He is not as fond of her as you**.'

Slate felt his heart in his throat and his gaze immediately darted to Maurice. The olive flecks in the graying borean's tones danced with the tangoing flames before him, yet never let up from the younger ape before him. ' **I hate her just as much. She injured Quill. Put apes in danger** ,' he defended. ' **Could do worse** -' A hand fell upon the chimp's shoulder, nearly startling him out of his skin. Lake's graceful fingers pressed into his burly deltoid, a scowl upon her face.

"Do not.. lie.." The three words she spoke were honey sweet and light, her soprano tone rough and airy, but nonetheless one-hundred percent Lake. Eventually her green set softened, like it would with a child. ' **Is it true**?' Slate's eyes widened, whites pearly as ever. He understood now.. completely. Dread clutched his belly with an iron fist as he realized that they knew. That all knew. How could he have been so _stupid_? His guarded expression melted away and his lips parted, the tips of his canines visible. Turning his head, he looked upon Cornelius and Rocket, then finally Maurice. The teacher's head tilted downward, as if encouraging him to come clean. Slate didn't answer until all of them seemed to be peering expectantly at him. The flames popped and hissed.

' **Did you know she was out there**?' Rocket clarified, brow beginning to lower. He was not impressed by the hunter's silence.

The chimp wavered. If he admitted his mistakes, perhaps he could make up for it in the future. He didn't wish to disobey the tribe, nor did he know their intentions toward humans. What Slate did know, however, was that if there had been a threat, it had been his job to protect apes from danger. He should have reported it, and now thinking back he regretted not doing so from the beginning. Slate had thought about it time and time again, knowing that each day he went to see her wasn't too late. He had just never been able to work up the nerve, and that was saying something. Slate was proud of his grit. "Yes," Slate finally replied, casually moving himself away from Lake's touch. He hated being touched. The royal family shifted, looking among themselves. Perhaps he could still recover from this. ' **Why has she been untied**?'

' **She has not caused trouble** ,' Maurice was the next to speak, clicking within his throat pouch. The firelight warmed his face-flaps. ' **She is with Nova**.'

"Does Pine.. know?" interjected Cornelius, scratching his ulna. "Wouldn't want him.. hurting her." Surprised by his prince's vague protective nature, he shook his head in response. Hadn't Cornelius been the one to originally leave her fate up to his malicious brother? Krissa could have died right then, only spared by Maurice's kind nature. Perhaps it was that he was still fond of the prince's deceased father and his way. 'Pine does not know.'

The teacher gurgled. ' **Let us keep it a secret. If word gets out that Slate, of all apes, is fond of this human** …'

"What is there to be.. _afraid_ of?" grunted Slate, cutting Maurice off. It seemed that his english grew better with ferocity. It was clear that something close to possessiveness stirred within him. There was a pause. His amber eyes fell to the flames, and then drifted away.

' **We will all keep her safe** ,' Rocket responded dryly. ' **Maurice thinks she is honest. Need to stay cautious though. Apes will watch her**.' The grey male gestured to his eyes while curled his index and middle finger on each hand, curling the other tactile members inward to his palms. Following this not long after, he flattened his palms and pressed his fingers together, bringing the back of his knuckles to his opposite extremity, allowing it to slap the tips of his digits. ' **You watch close**.' It was obvious that he wasn't sure about the human, just as he should be. Nodding and grunting in agreement, Slate mimed how his brother would react. He understood Krissa was not a threat.

Cavalier was a curse.

Dismissing himself, he shot Lake one last little leer and then knuckled out, this time with less urgency. As he exited, it was obvious that Pine had returned. He couldn't help but feel how his stomach took a tumble as the sight of his doe being skinned now. Despite how boorish and brash his brother could be, Slate know he was an excellent tracker and hunter. Perhaps he would go congratulate him on his hunter later; right now, he was itching to find Krissa and see if she was still as sickly as the evening before. Slate plodded over to a few females instead, searching for any sign of his younger sister among them. It wasn't until Joan, a small orangutan female, mentioned to him that she had last seen her leaving with the human. She was sure to coat her words with a nasty look of distaste. It wasn't just the males in the tribe that disliked her, it seemed. Taking to the ledges along the west-wall, he ambled up the crumbling slope and took to the trees. His head was reeling from what he had just taken in, his frustration with Maurice only adding to the situation.

He would have to discuss this with him later.

* * *

It was a bit of a task locating the group of females and the four white-tails, but as soon as he heard the excited hiccups of hoots from the children, it was easy to pinpoint their position. From the canopy he hovered, observing as Poppy and Mist picked through the sweet grass shoots, a basket at their side holding what they had already managed to harvest. Krissa was settled of on her own, Nova and she keeping an eye on three young bonobos and Twig himself, who was entertaining the others with his vigorous spinning. The view onward was beautiful; the land dropped off into a pond, the water lapping hungrily at the rusty sides of the rocks and mud. The stream babbling not far from the small group of females and children dropped off the ledge and cascaded in a thin stream into the belly below. Vines and lichen hung and tangled along, and ferns were thick and easy for the young to hide in. Slate swung further into view, Mist's long face turning up toward the clouds gathering overhead. Sniffing curiously, her features softened and she waved him over. Did he really have an option? Poppy would surely give him an earful if he kept moving. Slate ambled his way along a branch and flung himself earthward, the greenery stirring upon his sudden collision. Twig, obviously noticing this, scampered over to the hunter with large emerald eyes.

' **Hello** ,' signed the white-tail, far from apprehensive as he took hold of his spear and began to lean back, using it as support. ' **Wanna play**?' Soon he was swarmed by the others, examining his weapon and prodding him curiously. They begged him to join them, which he felt his chest tighten significantly at, uncomfortable with all the attention. He didn't wish to disappoint them, but then again, their little hands were touching him. He hated being touched. ' **Come play**!' signed a small bonobo, her brown tones sparkling in the dim light. ' **Play in ferns**!' Slate found his attention caught by an amused chartreuse set and his ears burned in embarrassment. He was under their wrath until the little female's brother gave her a shove, and the group all chased after her back toward milky-haired human in a fit of shrieks. Krissa smirked and his nostrils flared in her direction, irritated by her entertainment. She was always poking fun at him.

Mist's soft bray finally broke their silent stare. "They.. are very energetic," simpered the nursing mother. ' **Twig is learning fast. Maurice had his hands full today, so they're out with us**.' Turning back to her work, he fell into step with her, joining his sister and the other chimp. Perhaps they were simply exhilarated by the change of scenery, but Slate still found himself overwhelmed by the way they buzzed with activity. Wary, he shot a glance back in Krissa's direction, who was now signing back and forth with Nova. She wore this weird tube thing: it was just enough to cover her small breasts, cropping off a few inches above her diaphragm. There were so many _strange_ colors on it and the designs were so _busy_ that it made his head buzz. One of the infants was resting on her chest at and forced her to turn at an awkward angle as she sat in the grass. He had one foot upon her breast, one on her shoulder, and was leafing through her raven curls. It just felt so strange with her comfortably joining the other apes just as Nova did. The human child was one thing, but a grown adult? Not only that, but a human he knew of. As much as Slate didn't wish to be intrusive, he picked up a sliver of their conversation.

'.. **Monarchs gather up there. Have you seen them**?'

' **I've wanted to, I've heard it's beautiful** …'

"Pine… did he come back?" asked his sibling, his head snapping around. Had she noticed? Her brows furrowed. Yes. Was Mist aware? A long delicate finger pointed in his direction and then her fingers curled inward. It took him a moment to realize that she was feigning concern. ' **You okay**?'

' **Just distracted. Tired. Long hunt** ,' he remarked, then shot a look back over at Krissa and Nova. ' **Why is she here**?'

' **Nova brought her** ,' Mist answered, her head rising slightly. Nose twinging, she paused for a moment, before she nodded softly. 'She is gentle with the children.'

' **She won't eat them, Mist** ,' Poppy teased, giving the older female a nudge.

' **I wouldn't let her** ,' the mother retaliated, although it was obvious that she held her own amusement at this comment. No, Krissa wouldn't hurt a fly. She had never tried to attack him, not once. Recalling the event where she had kicked him in the jaw, he gently brought his palm up and stroked the dark skin and hair. He could snap her like a twig if she decided to turn around and attempted to hurt apes. She was his human, and so he'd control her. Shifting his weight from his knuckles, he sat back in the grass. The clouds had bunched together, drowning out the heavenly cerulean the morning had brought, now heavy with rain threatening to spill. The birds had strengthened their calls, belting out into the afternoon's drowsy heat; mosquitoes whined in their ears, earning a swat here and there from the apes. The sound of the rushing water was now very prominent, the apelings having quieted down, giggling softer now as they were losing steam. The bonobo siblings were now lounging not far from Nova, Twig and the eldest child darting through the ferns and scampering up the trees with vigor.

Eventually Krissa stood up, alerting the others. ' **Mist** ,' she signed gently. ' **Might Nova and I take the kids down to the pool? They want to see the water**.' Mist smiled tenderly and nodded her head, earning a grateful smile. "C'mon you guys. We're going swimming!" The children bounded to their feet, racing out into the undergrowth ahead of her, excited to get cool. Just as Nova rose and stretched delightfully, her blue eyes fell upon the only male present. **'Slate should come. Keep safe** ,' she suggested.

His head shook immediately, and before he could catch himself, said something rather odd for a so-called human-hater. "Have _Krissa_ ," he responded, feeling his tongue curl back into his mouth as soon as the words escaped his lips. There was an awkwardly hard silence before he finally added, ' **Will watch from here**.' Hopefully saving the conversation, the male turned back toward the others only to be met with stares. Uncomfortable, his eyes fell and he pulled himself to his quads, plodding through the grass. Once out of sight, he quickly made his way over to the stream, it's bubbling reminding him of the one that had fuck through Krissa's camp. His ears burned at the thought of how Poppy and Mist had gawked. He needn't be so curious and trusting- he was no longer a white-tail. Still, even as he gazed out from the view high above the pool below, pulling shoots from the ground and munching with the least amount of poise, he could hear them down below. The chimp fought urge to peer down over the edge, even as he listened to them below. Eventually though, he gave up, realizing his own stubbornness was keeping him from tending to his promised vigilance.

Thunder hummed overhead and the storm finally began. The rain was soft and fine, kissing everything with it's pearl-sized droplets. Slate could already feel the frustration welling in his belly as he heard her speaking to the young, trying to coax them out from beneath the shelter of the woods. "There's nothing to be afraid of.. _Look_ , see how the water in the rain? See how everything looks slippery? It's just a little thunder." As his amber eyes fell on the posse below, he watched as Krissa's lithe form bounded through the rocks, the females skittering along the water's edge and the boys wrestling in the murky pool. Creeping closer to the cusp of the edge, Slate's attention followed after the human, who eventually came to the weathered boulder jutting out across the surface of the rippling lagoon. Then there was a noise. It started soft at first, but then grew in volume, until eventually he realized just where it was coming from. Krissa's lips parted and words began to form. " _ **Fire and brimstone fell upon my ears, as their throats of open graves recited fear**_ ," she sang, her voice clear and satisfying to the ear. " _ **Like the bullets of a gun they drove my tears, and my feet to run the hell... out of here**_!"

His stomach felt as though it were on fire as he listened, finding that his feet moved on their own and he began to amble down the sheer cliff-side to the stones beneath. Hovering in one place, her chartreuse depths flitted up suddenly, a few pieces of pebble falling not far from her. Surprised, she blinked, then glanced over her shoulder. She seemed to silently confirm something that ran through her mind- perhaps that it was alright to speak with him, and then her mouth opened. "You seem perplexed," she greeted. Slate wasn't sure what she meant, but he continued his trip until he was settled atop a tall set of stones, looking down at her crown. Her next question was dry. "Are you still pissed that I got caught?"

Grunting, he gave her a hardened look of confusion, cocking his head slightly. Her eyes rolled and she rose to her feet. Her hands came to the buttons of her high shorts and she then wiggled her way out of them. What he was met with was her bare backside and this piece of material covering her front and hips. They were unnaturally orange with white and pink, the straps covering the crook of her behind, where a tail could have grown just like apes. Slate pulled his eyes away from her exposed bronze skin and allowed them to hover by the back of her pate. Krissa turned herself around, brows raised high. ' **Angry** ,' she signed, clarifying. ' **Are you still angry with me**?'

Slate's teeth clenched and his lips curled. ' **It was stupid. To go down to the waterfall** ,' the stubborn ape berated, nose wrinkled. "Could have.. Died. Pine was ready.. to kill you."

"Why didn't you stop him when he was beating me up then, _huh_?" she asked casually, wading her way down into the pool below. A hiss escaped her, most likely because of the temperature.

' **If brother found out, would have killed you and me**.' Well, that hadn't been _one-hundred_ percent true. He was surprised by this excuse he created, but it wasn't a _complete_ lie. Slate could feel his gut twist as he realized how shallow been as he had gone about this. Had he thought of stopping Pine? Yes, of course he had… but his own stubborn pride and ego had gotten in the way, and clouded his better judgement. What mattered now was that she was alive and Pine still didn't know about Krissa being more than just a stranger to him. Slate watched as the human climbed beneath the steady stream of water, letting out a hum of agreement. Shuffling, he hopped down from the outcrop and took her place atop the boulder. "He still does not.. know," the male reassured flatly.

These creatures were so different compared to his kind. Her couldn't quite wrap his head around how thin she was compared to ape females, almost as if she were malnourished. Her torso and legs were long, her arms willowy and fragile. She was lean and yet somehow graceful, like a mare. They grew hair only on their heads, and her own was even more otherworldly. The curls were wild, wispy and dark. Those weird markings on her cheeks and nose? Quill had some. The human bowed her head beneath the cascading wall and turned, whipping her shoulder-length hair up and spraying water all over Slate. Startled, he rose at first and growl, only to relax as the youngsters giggled and hooped. " _Oh_! I'm _sorry_ , did I _splash_ you?" she jeered, sarcastically simulating an apology. Slate was just about ready to tear into her when a wicked idea came to mind. With a massive swipe of his hand, he brought a wave crashing across her left side, earning a shriek from her. Her startled shrill sent deep, throaty pant-chuffs of laughter up through his throat, sneering devilishly in her direction.

To his surprise, he found her top teeth biting down into her lip as she stood there, shivering and giggling. That dark look in her chartreuse eyes caused the fur along the back of his neck to rise. Slate observed as Krissa shook her head, supple lip released, and stooped down. Her hand disappeared, only to return with a massive ball of mud; there was a rumble of thunder and he pant-barked in partial excitement as the wad soared through the air and he dodged out of the way. She could land a square hit on a doe, yet could not hit a moving object? He'd have to show her a few-

 **SPLAT**! Thick, cold, sticky muck smacked squarely into the chimp's ear. Slowly, he felt it drip and slide down his neck, covering his shoulder in it's dense shrapnel before proceeding to ooze until it hit the boulder beneath his feet. This earned an indefinite snarl. Slate turned, immediately shielding his soiled side and attempting to wipe it off. When his tawny eyes flashed in her direction, she was nowhere to be seen, submerged in the deeper part of the pool. That slippery fish! He'd get her back for that one. Sauntering off the boulders, he retreated off into the foliage, taking the long way up to the waterfall so he could calm himself down and speak with Mist and Poppy.

The thunder had all but stopped, the rain continuing to fall in peaceful pearls of precipitation. He could tell that it was about time to pack up and head back home. Slate found that he crossed paths with his sister, the chimp heading for the pool-side in order to collect the children in his place. He had had enough of games for the day. His main priority was to meet up with Mist and wait for the others. Whatever jolly mood he had been put in by Krissa was gone, his coat surely matting later in the day from that muck she had flung at him. As he meandered along, picking through debris from falling trees and toadstools, he rounded the edge of the slope and then stopped abruptly. Something pungent and sour hit his nostrils, which he followed by instinct, naturally curious as to where it was coming from. At first he didn't exactly recognize this scent- it had been too long for him to say, that is. Discovering the odor emanating from the bark of an unsuspicious redwood, he puzzled and scrunched up his face, drawing back as soon as he was too close to take it. Slate had located this scent before, but where? This was strong, and fresh. Perhaps created five minutes ago?

Something clicked and he suddenly understood. Everything happened in rapid fire motions.

Slate whirled around and screamed at the top of his lungs until his vocals felt hoarse; Krissa yelled something illegible; Poppy and the young ones began to make alarm calls, Mist joining in not long after. With powerful strides, the hunter soared through the undergrowth, leaping great distances and ambling up the closest tree to swing back down toward the water's edge. They were just on the cusp of the forest-line: his sister stood protectively in front of the three bonobo siblings, blaring her lungs out. A few feet away, still soaked, was Krissa kicking at nearly 230lbs of muscle and fur, saliva dripping from it's teeth. Guttural snarls frightened the shrilling children behind his confused and frantic sister. Slate didn't take much time to focus on the blood spraying across the ferns- he plummeted to the ground and barreled straight into the cougar's rippling flank. The human scrambled to her feet, scrambling out of the way as Slate squared off with this animal, his spear meeting a thick column of brawn, which immediately earned him a swipe of the creature's extended claws. It happened so quickly: the beast's deadly weapons met the flesh of his forearm and his weapon was torn violently from his hands as the tom pulled himself away. The animal shot forward once again and Slate only managed to throw his mits up in time to catch him by his barrel of a chest and thick throat. The puma snapped, canines making a horrid hungry clicking sonancy, meeting nothing but air. Quickly, Slate shoved the animal back and away from himself.

Finally overcoming the adrenaline coursing through him, Slate twisted his powerful pate around, bringing his jaws down upon the side of it's head, coppery blood blossoming into his mouth and across his tongue. The contact was brief as suddenly his jaw was jarred by how quickly the puma yanked his massive skull from the hunter's steel grip, following with another flesh wound, this time deeper. The white-hot agony of the monstrous feline's claws raking across his opposite bicep caused his lips to curl back and a howl to erupt from deep his chest. Initially Slate thought that the animal would finally give up, but instead there was a heavy silence, filled only by the rumbling growl within the puma's gullet. The two mammals stared each other down in a standoff like no other, the lull filled with the whimpers of the children and the hollering of Poppy and Mist. Great huffs of air passed through his flaring nostrils and lips as he struggled to fight the pain, although he dared not take his eyes off the predator.

His burning rage built up and up, creating great contusions within his belly. Slate lunged just as the puma made for another blow of it's mighty paw. He shot forward, snatching his spear from where it dragged from it's meaty side and with a hiss, he darted out of the way quick as he possibly could. The puma landed mere inches from where he had once been and pinwheeled around, the chimp feeling the staggering gust of air against his exposed back. Slate turned and slowly but surely asserted his dominance, rising to full height. A great pant-scream escaped him, cutting through the cries of the approaching party, his coat bristling and his bloodied fangs gleaming just as deadly as the feline's own yellowing set. The spear ascended into the air, pointed directly at the space between it's widening muddy eyes.

The alarm calls of his approaching liberators startled the big cat, the others charging and chasing the animal away, ending the bloody battle there. Slate felt his entire body slowly relax and began to pick out members of his tribe. Rocket was in the lead, pant-hooting until he was shrieking as shrill as the birds, his arms swinging behind him, then forward. Marshal stood proudly near his side, followed by Hail, Pine and Sharp. Soon their cries of bloodthirsty died out as they approached him, signing and asking if he were alright- but he couldn't hear any of them.

Slate could only hear Krissa's hiccups and sobs. Pulling away from his concerned familia, he turned to stare at the human, curled in a bundle with her knees hugged tightly to her chest. Slate, worried, stiffly fell to all fours and slowly approached, making soft coos and extending a hand. Her chartreuse eyes had never been more colorful, their near yellow shade of emerald blaring out from against her stark raven curls and her dark lashes. Tears fell relentlessly in massive pearls of brine, mingling with the mist that now fell from above in the sky. His wounds ached, all he could smell was excrement... her eyes were so red. Why was she crying? Blood was everywhere-

The blood was on _her_. It was _all over_ her. Slate could see the crimson smeared upon her fingers and the dark velvety gore that bathed her front. Numb to his fears and what he didn't wish to see, his head turned and fell upon Mist.

The dark brown female coddled her son in her arms, his limbs hanging limp from where she held him, her lips peeled back in distress. The blood that sprayed and marred the dark earth and the fronds surrounding was not only his… in fact, it had been a small portion. The child's remaining eye stared up at his mother: it was milky, unseeing, lifeless- ripped of it's kindred light that twinkled there not long ago.

The entire clearing grieved and Slate had to look away before his eyes could find the white-tail's exposed grey matter.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** _This was hard for me to write. I've loved this character for such a long time, even despite him only having been in this story for a few short moments. This is emotional to read, so I apologize. If you are wondering what the song Krissa singing is, it's called **Lay Me Down by The Oh Hellos**. This song (along with others) helped me write this chapter and this death. It really gives you an excellent outlook to Twig's innocent character, as well as how this world is still cruel and chaotic even while there is peace._

 _I'm sorry for this chapter being so long in the works. Posting might become a bit slower with_ _my new job, but I'll try my hardest to update as quick as possible for you guys. **I'd love to hear what you thought and/or are thinking of the story so far, so please leave a review, and don't forget to fav/follow for updates!**_

 **Love ya pals, see you in the next chapter! xo**


	11. The Bond (Chapter X)

Krissa felt nothing yet everything at once. Their return to the colony's home was slow and tedious, for each time she stepped, the jagged lashes from the puma's claws would scorch at a million degrees. Rocket and Nova patiently helped her hobble behind the group, Mist mourning the whole way there. Poppy remained by the female's side, and just behind Slate was guided by a grey-speckled ape with shaggy chin-fur, making sure that the younger male was balanced, even as he brushed him away and insisted he was fine. It was obvious that he was bleeding heavily, just as she was. Where was the notorious Pine and his goon on the other hand? To Krissa's complete surprise, he had taken the unharmed children and fled on a quicker route home, so as to get them the relief they needed. They had to rest on multiple occasions, seeing as Mist was still going through the cycles of her harrowing grief. This only upset Krissa further, who would look to Rocket for help. The near hairless male didn't seem too soft at all, more like he was made of stone and nothing else. He would sit, his face a continuous expression of steely thought, similar to how a gargoyle would appear to rest among the pillars of a church. Although he wasn't much for conversation, he stuck by her side, eyeing how the blood was becoming tacky upon her clavicle and breasts, her bandeau ruined from the dark burgundy smears. Krissa felt as though her hands were bathed in white glue, encased in a layer of dried goop. She remembered peeling it off her hands for fun, but the sticky, dried crimson was far from something she wanted to play with.

Eventually they made it back, the rain coming down in sheets outside. The colony was silent as soon as they walked into the camp, over two-hundred heads simultaneously following Mist as she moaned pitifully, her deceased child's broken body held tightly within her arms. As she would pass, four or five apes would reach out and gently brush an arm or a leg with their palms outstretched in sympathy. Her stomach rolling, Krissa could feel their pain, their sorrow. They felt just as much as she… or perhaps it was that she was more ape than human? Her freckled cheeks were devoid of color, the whites of her eyes bloodshot from sobbing. She had once been full of panic and anxiety, but now? Now she was just hollow. Before she could really protest, Rocket handed her off to a few healers and she was guided toward a towering cypress. At first she was unsure of how she and Slate would climb: being injured so horribly, you would think that they would have something more convenient and lower to the ground, but as the healer supporting her weight pushed through the raspberry bush clumps, she felt relief to see the same fan-like design winding up it's massive trunk. They hobbled up, Slate beginning to weaken and groan gently as he dragged himself along. Krissa ached to reach out and touch his shoulder, to somehow reassure him that it would be okay, but she remained still. She hated to admit it, but she had seen how easily he had thrown the predator off of him, and how menacing he had looked with blood coating his maw and gnashing teeth - and this made her wary.

They were escorted up the winding staircase and inside the main area where they were surrounded by apes - all female- in masks and headpieces of all different kinds, all beginning to tend to their wounds. The main female to come to her aid was a _bonobo_ , which she had learned was similar to a chimp, yet not… or at least that was what Maurice had said. Krissa over time, with little to no pieces of information about this species of ape, began to pick up on key features. They were typically black or dark grey, smaller and more slender in appearance. Not only that, but none of them bore the milky face of some chimpanzees. Come to think of it, Slate carried quite a few bonobo characteristics, but that had to simply be coincidence. His frame was far too chimp-like. Perhaps she'd address it later. Why was her mind so _flitty_? The female bonobo's fingers found her bronze chin and tilted it up gently. Her voice came out in a reedy tone. "Shell," she introduced quickly. She then pointed to Krissa.

Oh, she wanted her name? Her throat was scratchy from screaming. She swallowed heavily and blinked feverishly. " _Krissa_ ," she croaked in reply, managing to smile gently. Her grin was returned as the female began to stoop down, propping up her leg on the bed of moss and fronds she was resting back into. Shell began to examine her limb, her fingers probing the wound with gentle precision. Although Krissa could tell that she was using amiable hands, she still couldn't help but retract and let out a soft yelp. _It hurt so bad_. Hadn't she read somewhere that feline claws were coated in some sort of venom? Her father had always dismissed it as simple veterinary legend, but she had never believed him. Krissa recalled visiting her older sister at her apartment in San Francisco, and playing with Caramel, her pet cat. Of course she hadn't meant to hurt her, but boy did those tiny scratches burn. She remembered how much it would hurt each time she would do the dishes, or water the garden, or even if she would simply brush it in her sleep. Krissa had found them so painful and had constantly complained, but compared to the cat-scratches she had now? She would give them up faster than you could say ' _caramel_ ' if she had the option.

Regardless if her father were correct or not, the biting pain was unbearable. She hadn't felt anything this immense since her appendix had burst and she had needed surgery. Shell began to clean out the wounds, the agony flaring up her calf. Distressed, Krissa leaned heavy on her side, gripping the bed and clenching her teeth. The bonobo's shamrock eyes met Krissa's chartreuse set. ' **Going to start dressing. This is going to hurt** ,' Shell warned, her almond-shaped optics pinching. It seemed as though she understood just how much pain she was in. Or, perhaps she was simply treating her like she would a child..

' **Thank you** ,' she signed halfheartedly. ' **Just please be careful**..'

Shell expressed surprise as she replied. Had she not known she could sign? ' **You remind me. Old owner** ,' she signed, smiling fondly at her.. ' **Young girl, rich family**.'

"I can assure you-" The bonobo pressed some sort of oil into the wound, followed by ointment. Sucking in greatly through her teeth, she squeezed her eyes shut. "I am _not_ from a rich family." There was a lull as Shell continued to work at her leg, the pulpy ground-up greens being wedged into the shallow lacerations. Just as she was beginning to come down from her adrenaline high, her body beginning to feel even more vulnerable as her limbs trembled greatly, she glanced over her shoulder to find that Slate was being moved. A groan of torment escaped him, although he kept himself together. Nonetheless, the sound caused her gut to flip. She attempted to sit up. "W-where are you taking him?" she asked, but before she could stand, Shell hooted and whined, a tender mitt coming to her shoulder. Krissa knew there was no point in struggling, nor even approaching him, yet she still felt the urge to be there while they sealed up those deep gouges in his flesh. She was part of the reason he was hurt in the first place… Never in a million years had Krissa thought that she would see fear in Slate's eyes and yet in spite of this, as he had crouched and had approached her tentatively, it had been ever so present. Those tawny depths of his had been all over her as he had reached for her, searching for something she wasn't sure he would find.

Although the pain was immense, she continued to watch as the healer bound her leg with a thick wooly lamb's ear, as she recognized it. "What was that you put on it?" she peeped, her voice tight from the pain. Shell finished binding her wound and straightened up, now checking over the scrapes she had on her right hand. Her eyes never left her work.

"Yarrow," she replied, her rangy fingers passing over the ruddy flesh. They were scuffed yet not bleeding. ' **Any more wounds**?' Shaking her head, Krissa allowed her tongue to pass over her lips. They were still salty from the tears. As the bonobo disappeared for a brief moment, she tuned in to the dull throb in her leg. Adjusting the way she was laying, she rolled off her side and onto her back, shooting a glance in the direction that the females and her injured friend had vanished in. It seemed that they were finally returning, some with blood on their hands, but there was no sight of the marred chimp.

Krissa began to recall the incident. As the screams for help had hit her ears, her feet had simply moved on their own, giving her no time to contemplate whether racing into danger would be a good idea or not. Swallowing, she shut her eyes tight, trying to forget the sight of Twig's maimed crown and throat. If it hadn't been for Slate … would she even be here right now? If she had reacted quicker, would Twig be alive?

Pulling her thoughts away from the dreadful conversation, she reflected on her current situation. _So much for leaving as soon as possible_ , she thought defeatedly. Krissa felt her stomach wrench and laid her head back, trying to wrap her head around the current events. She had finally been able to hold something down and move without feeling the need to vomit, only for the attack to occur. _Great_. Despite the odds, Krissa knew somehow that she would be alright. She would just have to avoid Pine and his nasty followers for the time being. Outside she could hear the chirping of crickets and the pattering of rain hitting the leaves, the clear silent and absent of it's usual crackling fires. Natural candle light flickered from massive hunks of wax gathered inside of oyster shells and hanging baskets, filling the dark room with a soothing honeyed glow. Everything was still, aside form the healers who occasionally would look her way.

Shell eventually returned, alerting her with a gentle hoot as she approached. Sitting up slowly, she recognized their usual clay breakfast dishes, water gleaming inside, as well as a scrap of material. Grateful, she remained as motionless as possible as she began to wipe away the blood from her hands and arms, as well as from her front. She would surely have to bathe herself later and change her clothes… but _how_? Her bag was in Pine's care. Krissa wanted to ask the bonobo about her things, but her own nerves got the better of her. Who was to say she wouldn't become hostile? The bonobo shot a glance over her shoulder which the human then followed, eyes falling upon Slate. The deep lesions were thankfully dressed and patched up, the soft leaves swathing his left bicep and his right ulna. He had been cleaned of any blood on his body, thankfully, and now looked like the same old chimp she had met in the woods… Surely he was exhausted, Krissa understood, and thus she removed her eyes from him. ' **You wish to speak**?' Shell asked carefully.

Krissa and her exchanged an awkward stare, but were then interrupted before her question could be answered. Just as Shell had finished up, a dark brown chimp plodded her way over. ' **You need rest** ,' she pointed out, dark brown irises flitting over her. She seemed to hold authority in this building, her pale face concealed by a mask of saffron-colored leaves drawn through a string of sorts. Krissa nodded gently. ' **Need clean clothes. Get them in the morning** ,' continued the healer. Her timbre was obvious, her hands moving with definiteness that only a mother or royal would hold.

"Thank you," the human said curtly. The handful of healers dipped their heads in acknowledgement and took their leave, allowing a heavy silence to fall over the room. Krissa's eyes fell to the dirty bowl of water and the rag within, studying the way the top of her head was reflected in the dirty water. It had been so long since she had seen her own reflection. Her lids fell shut and she took a deep breath, then glanced over her shoulder. Slate was watching with careful tones of cognac, settled with his arms resting stiffly upon his bowed legs. Rising, the human approached him slowly, climbing over the nest between the two of them and coming to rest on the lip of the setup. They searched each other's faces and she allowed the sight of him to be mulled over within her mind. He could have easily killed that animal if it had not been for the others scaring it off. This, now, did not make her nervous… which was odd for her to admit. Krissa shuffled closer and rested upon her knees next to him, hesitantly reaching her fingers out. She managed to brush the wooly lamb's ear ever so faintly before his nose wrinkled and his lips peeled back to reveal a hint of his sharp teeth. Quickly drawing away, her hand hovered and then fell into her lap, the air between them tight as a stretched rubber band. "Are… are you okay?" she asked softly.

Slate's features uncrumpled and he allowed his eyes to fall to the dressing upon his forearm. He seemed to hesitate, as if unsure of what to say, his oculars flitting from one place to another. Krisa saw his hands twitch and allowed her own dainty extremity to quickly meet one of his own. Slate, instead of pulling away, looked straight at her with those burning amber eyes. "Just talk," she whispered softly, nodding. "I'll be patient." Her digits slipped from his knuckles. Once again, there was nothing but the sound of crickets and rain. A rumble of thunder caused them both to flinch slightly, Krissa looking up at the roof of the hand-crafted building. "Hurt," Slate suddenly droned. His voice came in rasping huffs, but his english wasn't the worst she had heard. "But scars make .. apes strong."

The silence was thick and soupy. Krissa blinked, feeling her chest tighten. "You saved your sister and those children," she murmured, rising to sit next to him. "You saved me… you fought bravely."

"Protected _apes_ ," corrected Slate.

Krissa shook her head, brows furrowing. "I'm human, yet you saved me too… you could have let him eat me while you got the others to safety."

"Could have taken the chance to escape," pointed out Slate, giving her a dirty look. The survivor felt as if his words had just punched her in the stomach, her eyes beginning to burn. How dare he say something like that? "Could have gotten far away and… left apes alone."

Krissa felt ready to raise hell at his callous remarks. "Are you kidding? I couldn't have just left Twig to die-"

Slate came close, a great snort of air hitting her cheeks. "Was already _dead_!" he growled. Krissa opened her mouth to say something but his barbed tongue had already cut her deep. "Kris was ... stupid." She felt tears welling in her eyes, drawing away slightly as he tilted his head, his amber eyes holding something explicitly vile. Slate's teeth exposed themselves once more. "You should not.. have gotten in the.. way."

Breath catching in her throat, she tried to say something in her defense, but was blinded by a film of tears. His dark face became a muddled mixture of different tones of inky grey. Krissa's eyes lowered and she nodded, swallowing gently. The human rose to her unsteady feet and skirted around the nest between them. She then limped over so she could rest upon her chosen set of bedding and laid herself down, exposing her back to the hateful ape. Krissa then began to sob softly.

Some time during the night she had cried herself dry and allowed her eyes to shut, her body stilling as she was plunged into a restless sleep.

* * *

What woke Krissa from her restless sleep was silence, oddly enough. Her bronze lids were swollen and puffy, the survivor having to peel her eyes open like one would remove dead skin off a sunburn. It was quiet, the sound of an eagle's laughter filling the air as it soared above the colony's home. Rolling stiffly over onto her back, Krissa peered over at Slate. The ape was surprisingly turned toward her, his eyes shut and features still as he slept soundly. At least he was getting the rest he needed. Feeling her throat tighten as she remembered the ongoings of the night before, she squeezed her lids shut and shuffled back onto her opposite side. Her wounds still ached, albeit dully, and so every little movement felt as though she were pressing hot coals to her leg.

Closing her eyes softly, Krissa took a deep breath, feeling oddly… comfortable. Feeling safe, despite the circumstances. She was just spiraling into a rather dark sleep when her ears pricked and she startled awake. Sitting up, her eyes shot toward the entrance of the medicine tree. Krissa's attention fell upon the muscular form of Rocket, hovering near the thick trunk of the ancient cypress, oculars gleaming in the dull light. The grey chimp's head bobbed and a soft bray escaped his lips. Next to join him was Maurice, his hulking form knuckling in past his friend. Relief built within her chest and burst, tears prickling at her lashes. Krissa took the time to swing her tender leg over the lip of the bed, coming to face the orangutan and the chimpanzee completely as they approached her quietly. Behind her, she could hear Slate stir, a grunt escaping him as Rocket moved over to him. ' **Your leg**?' signed the bornean as he came to a stop. The auburn animal settled with a puff of air.

' **Getting better** ,' replied Krissa, hands trembling. Her throat locked up before she could explain verbally. Swallowing, her lips parted and a tear dribbled down her right cheek. A million thoughts ran through her head and she began to ramble. The words poured out like a relentless waterfall. ' **I'm so sorry. I tried my hardest. I couldn't get to him quick enough** -'

' **Slow** ,' Maurice soothed, purring softly in his throat pouch. The orang shook his massive head. Their eyes locked together like chainlink. **'You have been through a lot. We know what happened** …' A great breath escaped her and she allowed her face to fall into her palms. A sob heaved through her and she shook her head, trying to erase the image of the gored child's sunken pate from her mind. Maurice's large leathery hand found her upper arm and gripped her bare skin, the orangutan gurgling. "It had him already and I tried - tried to cover him… If I- I had just been there- _sooner_ -" hiccuped Krissa, shaking her head. "I'm so sorry… I'm so sorry, it should have been me…"

A hiss of hot air caught her attention as the orangutan hauled himself up onto the bed next to her, wrapping a long auburn arm around her shoulders and pulling her into his rotund body. Krissa couldn't help but sink against him, pressing her nose into his damp and musty fur. Heat resonated from his columns of hair, warming her shivering form. Maurice was clearly made for this type of weather. ' **He is with Caesar now. It is okay** ,' assured the greying orangutan. His coriaceous hand proceeded to stroke along her limb compassionately, trying to ease her worries. It wasn't until she heard a faint reedy whine come from the entrance that she swallowed her tears and began to wipe her eyes, peering through blurry vision at the chimp approaching. Poppy held a worried look on her face, Krissa's bag and weapon in hand. At first she couldn't believe that Pine would allow his sister to take her things from him, but then she figured that the two leaders must have backed this up. That, or perhaps he couldn't say no to his younger sibling. Reaching out, Krissa retrieved her things as soon as she was within arm's reach. Their fingers then interlaced and she nodded gently. "Thank you Poppy," she rasped gently, earning a soft bray from the female. Worry was clear in her ashen eyes.

' **You're okay**?'

Krissa nodded her head, sniffling. ' **Your brother saved me. He's hurt worse**.' The female's gaze peeked over her shoulder and she quickly moved past Krissa, now more concerned for her sibling's well-being. Her whimpers were heartbreaking, listening to her fuss over Slate's wounds and scold him for being reckless. Maurice in the meantime ushered Krissa to go and change, their visit to end soon. ' **The burying will be later today** ,' he mentioned, head tilting. The survivor felt her belly twinge. ' **Are you feeling strong enough to go**?'

So they wanted her there? Krissa swallowed nervously and wiped her eyes, shifting in place and moving to unzip her hiking bag. It opened to reveal a few items of clothing, some planets and granolas. Of course she wanted to go.. She was simply surprised that the colony wanted her to be a part of the service. Would this be like their funerals? Or different? What were the respectful customs? Peering up from her bag, she nodded her head. "Of course," she murmured softly, although the throbbing in her chest told her otherwise. Was she really ready to look upon Twig's disfigured form again?

The orangutan rumbled and dipped his head. ' **I'll inform Mist** ,' he disclosed. He then rose to his full height just as she did and burbled, his olive-flecked gaze searching her face. ' **We thank you. Not all humans would do such a thing**.' Uncomfortable with the orang's praise, she bit down on her lip and shyly averted her gaze. Rocking from foot to foot, she began to search for any place she could change, when suddenly Maurice prodded her with a gentle digit. ' **Toward the back, nobody is there. Surgical room**.' With a faint dip of her head, the young woman turned and traveled in the direction indicated. Disappearing from sight, she ignored the eyes that had followed her and nestled herself back into the bedded area. There were bowls of water and rather dried leaves, as well as multiple baskets just as there had been in the recovery section. Stripping herself of her clothes in the dim light, she quickly mosied on into clean undergarments and a new bra, along with her grey tank top, her father's worn-out button up and her jeans, slipping on her belt and finally strapping her knife to her denim-clad thigh. Tucking in the baggy shirt, she ran a hand through her messy curls. It was just about time to brush them, now wasn't it? Although they would become frizzy, they'd calm down in the damp surrounding air. Retrieving the comb from one of the side-pockets, she ran the bristles through her dark locks and then gave her head a quick flick. Krissa found that she had to steady herself afterward, seeing as how dizzy she was from losing blood the day before. She needed something to eat soon… and a good pair of shoes. Her feet were covered in a layer of grit, which wasn't too pleasant to feel between her toes. Had she packed her god-forsaken boots? Sighing heavily, she began to rummage through, finally finding her socks and lace-up American Rags. Krissa took a few moments to button up her sleeves and then tucked her hands into the baggy sleeves, her digits clinging onto the musty fabric. No wonder this bag had been killing her back the entire journey to the falls!

Plodding out from her shelter, she came to find that Maurice, Poppy and Rocket were all absent from the room, leaving Slate alone. The male was standing, facing her as soon as she stepped into the open. His probing cognac tones reminded her of their argument, which caused her mood to turn sour. All sorrow had left her now, replaced by ire. Krissa curled her soft lips and ripped her chartreuse set from his own, crossing over the wooden floor and coming to her bed where her bow and quiver sat. Silently she settled down, unfolding her socks and beginning to slide them on, careful of how her pant leg brushed against her wound. She took the time to carefully fold her socks down before she set her footwear alight on the ground in front of her and began to loosen the laces.

Slate gently grunted, but Krissa did not let it draw her attention and continued to work on her boots. It was best to just ignore him- besides, he would probably just try to agitate her again, and right now she wasn't sure if she had the nerve to retaliate. She was a mess right now. The tension seemed to have its own physical being, growing stronger and stronger each moment. Krissa could feel him staring at her, feel him waiting for her to turn around and address him. What was his deal? Just as she finished tying her second boot, Slate seemed to utter her name. Bolting upright, she whirled on him, striding straight toward him and coming to stand only a foot away from him. " _What_?" she hissed, her hazel eyes burning into him. He stood there stiffly, his amber gaze trained upon her, his face holding an indescribable expression. "What is it? Do you want to tell me again that I could have run? Because I _couldn't_ have- that just isn't who I am!"

Slate remained silent. "After all this, what do you want? You would watch me day-in and day-out, and for what? What is it, do you just want me to leave?" Krissa's chest was heaving for air, her heart hammering in her chest. She continued, her voice becoming wry and quavering. "I tried my hardest to save Twig. I really did! That's why I tried to protect him. I know I could have escaped, but that just wasn't an option for me!" Krissa shook her head, even as he took a step toward her. "I may not be one of your kind, but I am not so heartless as to leave a child to _die_ -"

Within two more steps, he had cleared the distance between them. The male's coriaceous hand rose and latched onto the back of Krissa's cranium, pulling her into a tight embrace as he pressed his forehead to her own. His opposite hand had snaked to her shoulder, clamping down firmly and holding her still. Shock rippled through her at first, but eventually Krissa felt a burst of adoration begin to well within her heart and squeezed her eyes shut, remaining where she stood as she came to grips with what exactly he was trying to convey to her. This was too intimate to be an action of anger. Eventually Slate pulled himself away from her, something strange stirring from behind his fiery brown eyes. His face seemed to be wracked with grief and worry, all muddled in together and running rampant across his features. "Slate.." she murmured softly. "I'm so sorry."

"You.." he began gently. "..are human, but.." His movements were stiff, yet he still proceeded to sign despite his injuries. It was clear that he was expressing something, his steely exterior having melted away. Flattening his hand, as if one would in order to swat someone, he brought his digits to his chin and waved it toward her, similarly to how one would say thank you. ' **Good** ,' then, following with a grunt of exertion, he balled both fists together and cast them up toward his chest, signing, ' **Strong**.' Krissa felt her throat begin to lock up once more, holding back a flood of tears. Straightening, she allowed the breath caught in her larynx to seep out through her nose. "Family," he asserted, unadroitly gesturing the word as well, his voice hushed and hoarse.

Slate curled all his digits into his palm, excluding his index on each paw and eventually entwining them, as if to make a promise. The chimp performed this twice, each finger opposite taking it's turn on top, before he reached out and pressed his knuckles to the skin just below her clavicle.

" _Friend_."

* * *

 **Author's Note: _Oh boy._** _Sorry for how long this took, but with starting my job, I've been working like crazy and haven't been able to find much time to add to this chapter. Thankfully with the weekend, I managed to finish it in time to post it just before I head in for another shift! ^^'_

 _I expected this chapter to be a little longer, but unfortunately I think its best to move on and start a fresh, new one so I'm no longer struggling with writer's block._

 _ **Anywaaaay~ I hope that you're enjoying the story so far. Don't forget to leave a review- I love hearing from you guys about what you enjoyed.**_

 _ **Thanks for reading 3 Love ya lots pals, see you in the next one!**_


	12. The Change (Chapter XI)

The morning was tame and damp.

It had to be just below fifty degrees fahrenheit, the cool breeze that swept through the woods adding to the drizzle that fell from above. The light was dim and grey, the forest floor as soft as pudding in some places from all the heavy rain. Four months had passed by quickly while Krissa had been among the ape colony, the leaves vaguely turning color as the seasons changed. Without the constant pressure from the presence of human beings, the temperatures had plummeted from their usual lukewarm readings, and although Krissa didn't own a thermometer, she was sure that it would most likely read something close to her guesstimate.

They lined the river bank, quietly listening and watching their surroundings with sharp observant eyes of emerald and brown. A morning dove cooed softly, it's call lazy and drawn out. The young woman's bare feet sunk into the pebbles along the shore, the muck sticking to her heels and sucking at her arches. Her eyes found the distinct tracks of mule deer, noticing how they curved into two tear-drop like scores. Knuckling up beside her was Salt, a muscular greyish-brown chimp. His sideburns were particularly shaggy, giving away that he belonged to Hail's lineage. The male had grown fond of Krissa, although his mother Ring wasn't all too interested. Hail, however, seemed to encourage it. She met his emerald eyes. Salt swiped his index finger across his brow, followed by his right mitt hovering in place and his left digit wagging as it pointed toward the ground. ' **Black-tail** ,' Salt signed, then continued, ' **Small, travel in groups of ten or eleven**.'

Krissa's head bobbed, a few of her wet curls hanging loose after having come free from her messy slicked-back ponytail. ' **Smaller, right? Than White-tail?** ' Her gestures were quick and small, as if speaking quietly. She had learned to stick to sporadic sentences during times where she needed to be silent. Too much movement could scare game off, as Slate had taught her.

Salt's large pate dipped and he crouched slightly. ' **Yes** ,' he responded, mimicking her private movements. His grip tightened around the net looped over his brown-grey shoulder. ' **Easier to use nets on**.' The two fell silent and still once more, wordlessly waiting for the signal to begin moving. Krissa had to admit, she was a bit nervous. This was only her second hunt, and the last time her training hadn't paid off very well. Perhaps she simply needed to try harder, but all the commotion made it hard to focus. One of the apes rocked gently from foot to foot where he squatted, his friends calmly signing back and forth next to him. Krissa knew it was rude to stare and turned her head. She had made the mistake of gawking countless times, but who could blame her? They were talking apes. Each time Krissa would find herself being caught engrossed in a conversation she had no business in, she would remind herself that they were not the aliens she saw them to be. Now it was something normal. This was their world, not her's.

Her eyes searched the throng of apes that lined the water's edge for a familiar face, although she came up short. Slate was either further up along the bank or he was up in the trees. From up in the branches above, an ape rumbled and she shot a glance up at the canopy. The prince and his adviser were resting next to one another upon a sturdy branch. Rocket raised a fist into the air and swept it forward, allowing his fingers to unfurl. This was her signal to collect her group together, plodding forward on her hands in order to keep herself balanced. Krissa didn't wish to have them spotted before they even got into their positions. Salt brushed against her, reminding her that he was there as well. Once they were all accounted for, they hobbled off toward the other side of the river. The chilly water sloshed around her ankles as she walked, keeping herself stooped down low. Krissa would have happily knuckled around just as they did, but with how stiff her back and shoulders got, she could barely move.

The group came to a thick patch of vegetation and quickly huddled up inside, hovering close to one another. Their bodies were warm from all that thick fur, which she was grateful for now. If it weren't for them, she would surely be freezing in her simple set-up of distressed high-waist jeans and a drenched NASA shirt. Her eyes fell upon the leathery hand parting the branches in front of them, revealing their targets in the meadow. They were only a couple feet away, their tails twitching joyfully. Her heart began to hammer. This was it. Adrenaline began to course through her. Krissa turned her head to look upon Salt, who stared out at the scene with intent, his hair beginning to rise along his shoulders in excitement. Her cranium then tilted and she found she was met with another familiar face. Her gut soured. Pine looked so similar to Slate, aside from that gnarled scar marring what would have been considerably attractive features. His right ear was in tatters, nearly absent from his pate. The male's teeth flashed and his eyes narrowed. She was surprised that he wasn't blind, the nasty mark just gracing from his cheekbone to his brow. Krissa, more concerned with the task at hand, shifted warily next to Slate's sibling and returned her attention back to the deer.

Another body shuffled up behind them. This was not Slate's team, but perhaps she would just have to make do for now. There wasn't much she could do now. Krissa drew her bow, keeping it lowered to the ground in order to remain small between Salt and Pine. The forest became eerily quiet.

Pine's hands flashed in the light.

They were off with a cacophony of sound, the woods coming alive with their calls and hollers. Krissa shot out from within the bushes, letting out a cry, her voice mingling in with their own. The deer didn't even turn to face them- they simply wheeled around and bounded off in the opposite direction, just as planned. She gracefully soared forward, keeping Salt in her sights as he took to the trees while Pine and Sharp shot after their prize. It felt so good to stretch her legs! Leaping up onto the closest log, she raced across the spongy surface before hurdling to the closest path of grass. Her ankles kicked through leaves and fronds, feet flying over the earth with great agility. Her lungs heaved for air, yet she did not seem to notice. Sharp fell into step next to the closest deer as it veered, his shoulder coming to slam into its flank. It was knocked in her direction and she immediately took the time to bounce herself to the right with one graceful step of her foot; Krissa soared up into the air and her arrow was let fly, skimming the animal by a mere inch. Just as she landed, she faltered, tumbled and quickly threw herself up onto her knees. Frustration welled within her chest as she watched the young buck race ahead, Salt and Sharp in hot pursuit. Krissa slammed her fist into the soft emerald tendrils and quickly scrambled to her feet, but just before she could collect her arrow and continue onward, Pine's muscular form collided with the surface of a fallen tree resting not too far from her. He slipped down to the ground with the grace of a cat and rose to his hind legs.

' **Human needs to keep up**!' he signed scornfully. His scarred face, gaunt with war-paint, was contorted in aggression.

Krissa had never particularly gotten along with Slate's brother, but was trying her hardest. It was his fault for always testing her patience. "I'm still learning!" Krissa spat. "Give me a break."

The male bared his teeth, his massive head swaying from side to side as he knuckled to the unlucky tree that her mottled arrow had sunken into. Pine certainly had better eyes than she. He yanked her artillery from the moist bark and tossed it rudely in her direction. ' **Should not have come on hunt** ,' he continued, sounding very similar to Slate. Was he scolding her or was he - "Should stay with females," Pine proceeded to sneer. "Not.. ready. Too slow."

That was _Pine_ for you. Krissa felt embarrassment swirl within her chest, her ears coming to burn in frustration. Who was he to judge? _He_ was the one wasting time! She was about to retaliate, only for the words to be lost as they were drown out by the shrieking alarm of an approaching party. Krissa clambered out of the way just as the massive cervidae came charging through the undergrowth, tumbling into the side of a cypress with a grunt. Uncomfortably muddy, she pulled herself to her feet and pursued after, running until she had caught up far enough. By now, her body ached and her throat was screaming for air, nausea beginning to creep up in her larynx from the exertion. There was no time for this, she knew, as she came to a toadstool cluttered stump and prepared to jump. Tossing her longbow over her head and shoulder, Krissa's legs bunched and she quickly threw her hand up to meet the surface of the slaughtered tree. Using a strong limb, she propelled herself up and over the former fir, sap now sticky upon her digits and palm; her feet collided with the ground and suddenly she was inches from the deer with her knife drawn.

Within mere seconds of her landing, a body abruptly collided with her own and knocked the breath from her. Before she knew it, her knife had grazed the animal's hide and she tilted earthward, the momentum sending her tumbling straight into the path of another rampaging buck. Krissa let out a shrill squeak and brought her hands to her head, preparing to be trampled. Much to her luck, the ape consecutive to the stampeding cervidae caught sight of her in it's lane and erupted in a series of pant-barks, attempting to veer the animal away by leaping up atop it's back. It wasn't enough. The deer violently jumped and bucked, causing it's rider to be thrown off and out of the way. Massive hooves rose into the air. This was going to definitely leave a mark!

Krissa felt a gust of air and gasped, suddenly swept up last minute by a sinewy brown frame, the two skidding in the muddy grass and into a partially flooded patch. Their heads came up, staring off at the thundering beast that had just narrowly missed them both. Relief washed over Krissa, her head falling back with a deep exhale of elation. She then brought her gaze to her savior, meeting the emerald hues of the prince himself, his milky features and dark chest sallow with his tribe's trademark varnish of chalky white. A singular line of royal violet ran from between his brows to his procerus, followed by two shorter diagonal lines near the top of the mark; this created a fork-like design, although the lines never merged. Her stomach dropped. Cornelius did not seem too impressed with her, the young male beginning to rise to his feet. Her head bowed and she immediately felt herself pale, bringing her hand up in an apology, asking for forgiveness. She cowered pitifully before him in the sopping-wet sod, her frame trembling. She had seen others do this before, including the twins, and ergo Krissa only felt as though it was right that she do so as well.

Finally, after a moment, she felt Cornelius grace his fingers over her digits and palm. Following their exchange, her prince and she looked upon one another. Cornelius seemed to have a dark, far-away look in his eyes, but before she could decipher what exactly he was expressing, he wheeled around and quickly approached the nearest tree. From the stories she had heard, Cornelius had been a spitting image of his father since day one, although in her opinion, his face seemed more slender like his brother's had been described as. His emerald eyes were nearly forest-green, standing out among the crowd of males his age.

A hand found her back, startling her. Krissa turned her head to find a well-known set of amber eyes. The wounds upon his limbs were now healing up, no longer needing their protective dressings, and his dark grey features were painted just the same as his Pine, a short stroke of crimson adorning his glabella. Slate's face was illustrated with frustration, yet deeply vexed as he met her chartreuse set. A few brisk hoos escaping him as he looked her over. Croaking, his head shook in disapproval.

"Stupid," huffed the dark chimp, manhandling her as he examined the scrape upon her jaw. ' **Too slow, could have gotten trampled**.'

' **I think that someone hit me** -'

"Weren't paying attention. Should know.. all surroundings," chided Slate, meeting her eyes with teeth bared in resentment. ' **I couldn't redirect it. Cornelius is why you're alive**.'

Angry that he would not listen, her eyes fell. They didn't have time to stop and chat- she realized that now after her discussion with the dark chimp's brother. "We should get moving," she insisted, tearing away from his grasp. Slate almost seemed wounded by this, but they continued on, gathering their things and beginning to track the nearest, freshest set of prints. It all came down to the two of them now: Salt, Pine and Sharp were long gone off in the bush, leaving her to fend for herself. Things seemed to have worked out well for Slate though, seeing as his posse showed up quickly. At least he had something going for him. Rocket, Hail and another male she had not yet been introduced to approached with observant eyes, communicating back and forth with harsh hollers. Krissa took a moment to pick out what exactly they were excited over, when Slate pointed to the tail of a small doe disappearing into the brush.

Excited, the human burst ahead, beginning to draw her bow as she raced through the undergrowth. Silently she traveled from below, the rest of the group following after her without a sound. It took her nearly five minutes to catch up, the doe having slowed. Stepping softly, Krissa eyed her as she moved downwind, making sure to keep herself out of sight. There was a lull. Eyes darted from here to there, the apes as still as stone as they waited. They waited and they _waited_.

Rocket suddenly bellowed and the apes soared to the ground, the unknown male's muscular frame closest beside. Surprised by their abrupt arrival, the female reared and swung her legs at him, sending him ducking out of the way. The cervidae struck him in the shoulder, although thankfully the blow wasn't enough to break any bones. Next to the plate was Rocket, swinging a weighted sling over his head, the concussive whaps from the weapon cutting through the air. With exemplary aim, the male let out a shriek and let the weapon fly, evidently capturing the deer's front legs and causing her to stumble. Finally, Slate plummeted into view and swiftly used the recoil from his limbs in order to violently launch himself up onto the cervidae's back. Without much of a pause, he swung his spear down over her long head, bringing the weapon's staff up against her throat and pulling back.

The sun broke through the thick clouds, the rain turning into liquid gold as it showered down around them. The mule deer let out an audible choking noise and careened back upon her hind legs once more. Slate looked like a warrior charging into battle, or some sort of hellish beast bringing terror to the mortals of earth. It was overwhelming and she couldn't help but stare at the majesty before her. " _KRIS_!" shouted the chimp, guttural voice thundering through the air. Rocket's spear met her flank and the other simian raised his own. The moment all materialized within slow motion.

Krissa rose to her full height from where she had been hiding and drew back the string of her longbow with all her might. Taking a deep breath, she narrowed her eyes and then let the arrow fly.

* * *

The wind had picked up slightly, but the sun was warm on Krissa's shoulders. The deer they had caught was strapped to the spit they typically used for big game, it's head hanging limp. Sore and tired, she was pleasantly content with her catch. It had been her arrow to meet the mark, with a little help from Slate. Perhaps they worked better together because he had known her longer than any of the other apes had. She carefully walked along beside Salt, Slate making pace before her and discussing something with Rocket. Her eyes drifted to the cervidae the two apes assisted in carrying.

The doe wasn't as big as she had hoped her first game catch would be, but it was something..

A hand came to brush her ear, Salt's hiccups drawing her attention. The greyish male dropped to his knuckles once more, although kept his attention upon the human next to him. ' **You are bruised** ,' pointed out the male, gesturing to his own forehead. Puzzled, Krissa brought her hand to her brow and graced her fingers over her glabella, then to her optical, only to flinch as she found the source. ' **You fell hard**?'

Shrugging, she met his worried gaze. "Probably did. I don't know what hit me, but next thing I knew I was nearly being trampled!" Krissa could still feel the jitters in her fingers as she recalled Cornelius saving her last minute. Slate had done his best, but he had simply been tossed off the deer's back. She was grateful. "Its nothing I can't handle."

"You made.. a good catch," panted Salt, offering a grin. His head nodded, shaggy hair ruffling in the wind. ' **Better than I did. Caught only rabbits first time**.'

"Didn't Hail teach you?" she asked, tilting her head slightly.

Salt's head shook. "Pine," he deadpanned. ' **Father was fighting for Caesar mostly**.' The ape's attention left her for a moment, falling to the ground. ' **Was spotty training. Didn't help that Koba did what he did. That's why humans panicked. Called others**.'

Krissa had heard the noise: the distant booms, the faint cries for mercy. She had heard a lot, but mostly had been focused on her own survival. She had never taken the time to stop and see it through someone else's eyes. Now that she was living with them, she realized just how deaf she had been to their suffering. Sure, they were a different species, but.. Krissa never realized just how human they really were. Children deprived of their homes, orphans never knowing their parents; tyranny and betrayal. Granted, she never asked about Koba, nor about the Colonel, but she had heard them mentioned. Humans destroyed everything they touched.

Come to think of it, Slate, Poppy and Pine.. had their biological family ever been brought up?

"I only caught squirrels my first time…" murmured Krissa, smiling softly. "My dad wouldn't let me try anything else, because I still couldn't use my bow properly."

' **That's because you're human** ,' Salt teased.

This earned him a lighthearted narrow of her eyes. Krissa couldn't help but giggle along with him. "Yack it up!" she jeered, giving his leg a gentle prod of her foot.

Her eyes flitted upward and landed upon Slate, who was just tearing his gaze away from her. Had he been listening? Pondering on the events Salt had recalled, the young woman chewed on her bottom lip. The spotty sun flashed in her hazel gaze, turning it to liquid serpentine and amber. ' **We can maybe work together** ,' Krissa suggested, catching Salt's attention. The chimp brayed in approval and reached up, grasping hold of her wrist momentarily. It was amusing. Salt held himself with maturity, but it was clear that he was a year or two younger, perhaps Cornelius's age- granted he wasn't as stoic as the leader, holding innocence behind those eyes still.

Smiling softly, Krissa reached down and brushed the side of his head with her fingers in return. "We'll learn quickly," beamed Salt. ' **Good team**.'

' **Good team** ,' echoed Krissa.

* * *

Their welcome was warm, the colony pant-hooting together in greeting. Cornelius was first inside, leading with Pine and a few other members, followed by the catch and finally rest of the party. The young ones were obviously distracted from their classes, all ambling out of the shelter of the cypress to look down upon the patrol with enthusiasm. They shrilled and hooted, Maurice's voice bellowing out after them as per usual. They were a slippery bunch. Even Nova was interested, a few other females making their approach to greet their loved ones. The blonde picked her way through the fray and met Krissa with a caress of her arm. Before she could press her head to her own however, the ravenette hissed in pain and brought her fingers to her brow. Nova was immediately worried, Salt leaning into her. Slate, taking notice, handed off his side of the stick to Rocket and turned to quickly approach Krissa. A snort or two escaped him, demanding that he take a look as he rose to his hind legs. Nova stepped out of his way and his hand immediately found her jaw, clamping down and forcing her to tilt her pate earthward. Krissa scoffed. "Slate-" she protested, aggravated by how he was handling her.

' **You hit your head** ,' he stated bluntly as she pulled away. Krissa gave him a bitter look. ' **How? When you fell?** '

"Yeah, someone knocked me over. I fell right on my face," she replied dryly. He hadn't been listening whatsoever, her remark from earlier having flown completely over his head. _Males these days, I swear to god!_ She scoffed inwardly. It couldn't be helped though; they had both been in a hurry. Sighing heavily, her demeanor softened. "I'm fine. I'm not bleeding.."

" _Who_?" asserted Slate, amber eyes flashing. His teeth peeked through his lips and he squared his shoulders. "Who hit you?" Well, that was quite the question. Who had crashed into her? Krissa's eyes fell from the angry chimpanzee and she allowed her attention to wash over her surroundings. The only ape who it could have been was either Salt or Sharp, and Slate's adoptive sibling would surely have said anything. Sharp.. he had been the one to shepard the mule deer toward her. Krissa had seen him just before she had been bowled over onto her face. "I don't know…" she admitted, shrugging her shoulders.

"Krissa was .. with me," Salt piped up. Their heads turned. ' **Me, Sharp and**..' Slate and he exchanged a look. The posse all collectively came to silent conclusion. Suddenly livid, the inky grey chimp turned and searched for Pine, fangs bared. His gaze fastened to his brother, a low growl grew within his throat. He spoke to Sharp and Sage in small movements, Spoon to his left slightly blocking the view. Preparing to stalk over, he balled his fists and began to stoop down. It wasn't until Krissa dove forward and caught him by a long sinewy limb that he froze dead in his tracks.

" _Stop_.. this isn't a fight. I'm sure it was simply poor judgement," protested the survivor, her voice low. Slate's head turned, his broad deltoids hunched and his amber eyes narrowed. Her voice mellowed further. "Slate, come on." Krissa didn't want a brawl breaking out between the two. She had seen plenty of arguments between the two, and although she understood that the tension would most likely break at some point, she wanted to put that day off for as long as possible.

' **Pine wouldn't try and kill her** ,' added Nova, clearly focused on keeping the peace as well. She looked between the two of them. ' **He's just a bully**.' Slate was pissed regardless, ready to even turn violent if necessary. He was getting so fed up with Pine, to a point where it made her wary. However, as Krissa tightened her grip upon his arm and peered into his eyes, he simmered down.

"Maybe you can talk to him when you're thinking more clearly.." advised Krissa, chartreuse gaze hard as he turned his head away. "But you shouldn't go doing anything stupid." Slate out a chuff, his eyes gracing to her hand. _Right_ , no touching. Gently releasing him, she drew away. With Nova at her side, she began to head for the Medicine Tree.

* * *

Twilight had passed. The sky was draped in endless inky black, sprayed with pinpricks of starlight that had slowly grown over the years since mankind's empire had collapsed. The crickets had long since gone to sleep for the winter, the steady humming breeze rocking the towering sequoia and eastern white pines that surrounded the camp entrance. Speckles of light danced across the mountain-side from where they flickered off in the distance, the smell of cooking venison filling the air, along with the occasional grunt or groan from the simians below as they conversed over their meals. Slate was settled among the ranks of his hunting patrol, absent of Rocket whom was settled off a ways with the council. His greyish half-sibling shuffled next to him, excitedly listening to Ilam, the male who had been struck during the assault. His shoulder move stiffly, a dark blemish beginning to bleed beneath his skin. Thankfully Sparrow had taken a look and established that there was no injury to the bone, just as she had with Krissa. Shell had tended to the young woman with careful precision, and now she was up and about once more just as she had been previously. He was grateful for the bonobo's tender nature, for her chimpanzee companion wasn't too fond of handling humans.

Ilam had just finished recalling the story of Slate's gallant performance amid the chaos of the hunt, Salt glued to him with wide emerald eyes. Nearly eleven years old and he still listened to his elders with the curiosity and wonder of a white-tail. It was endearing. ' **Your tactic was excellent** ,' Ilam opined, his dusty grey fingers splaying out, his palms turned out to face him in approval. A faint smile laced the chimp's lips and his eyes pinched together in thought. The fire popped passionately. ' **Have you used that before**?'

Slate found that to be a very perplexing question. It had simply been implemented on a whim, the cards falling into just the right place at the right time. The praise was overwhelming, but gave a huge boost to his ego. Chewing on his well-earned meal, he relished in the attention. ' **Only thought of once. Could be handy** ,' considered Slate. Salt's head turned to look upon his adoptive sibling. Bringing his knuckles to his chest, he scratched nonchalantly at his scarred pectoral. ' **Might use in future**.' In response, the other chimp bobbed his head. Ilam seemed impressed and that was what he was aiming for. Confidence engulfed him, a pleasant smirk weaving across his features.

"Caesar would be.. proud!" Salt gushed, lips peeled back in delight. Reaching up, he gave Slate a gentle caress of his head. ' **You have to teach me that too**.'

 _You weren't the only one_ , said a tiny voice in his head. In the midst of his own egotism, the dark grey chimp began to feel guilty. Hogging all the glory was fantastic, yes, but .. as he looked off toward the rest of camp, his eyes fell upon Krissa. The human was bundled in her sweater, long denim-clad legs hugged to her slender frame. She was settled by her own fire, essentially alone aside from the occasional visit from Nova or Poppy. His simper disappeared and he was left with a heavy pit in his gut, as if the meat weren't sitting right. ' **I wasn't alone in this** ,' he found himself saying, fiery gaze returning to the other apes.

' **Yes, the human helped too, didn't she**?' Ilam recalled, nodding in agreement.

"Taught her.. hunting," Slate explained. ' **She knew basics, but not enough. She's getting better**.' Reaching down, he picked up his bowl and began to poke through the grain within. His meat was finished, yet he still wanted more. He decided to began on the sunflower seeds, munching with his heavy jaws. Ilam's head turned, following his gaze. The young woman stirred, moving to prod at the coals. ' **Couldn't skin to begin with. Seems she's learning. Have to be good teacher for humans**.' Salt tilted his head over at Krissa, genuinely curious as well. Recalling the greyish brown ape's compliments, he wondered if perhaps he had simply been saying those words in order to instill assurance. Perhaps all the tribe knew of her slip-up with Pine- _that's right_ , he had almost forgot! That snake. ' **She may be a bit clumsy, but will do fine. More ape than human**.'

Ilam smirked and met Slate's eyes. ' **You have your work cut out for you** ,' mused the dusty primate. His head dipped sagely. ' **Congratulations. Not many would take on a human apprentice**.'

 _Apprentice_. The word struck a chord within Slate. His brow lowered and he pondered upon Ilam's remark, even as the older chimpanzee ambled to his feet and dismissed himself. It was getting later in the evening, the stars becoming more prominent as Slate gazed up toward the sky. Salt and he ate the rest of their dinner in cordial silence. Krissa was his apprentice. Was that the correct term? Would Cornelius even approve of something like that? Surely Nova was considered to be learning under Maurice's wing, but that was before the prince had any say in royal family matters. Slate was of mediocre status, although his brother and he had helped one another out with obtaining the level they resided at in the hierarchy. There was no definite rank: there were the colony members, the royal family and the king that all looked to. Despite this though, Slate and Pine were regarded as brilliant hunters, and frequently called on to lead patrols and even scouting missions.

"Slate," Pine's husky timbre interrupted his speculations. His frame stilled and his body visibly stiffened. The inky male turned his head despite his growing rancor and greeted his sibling with a sniff. Shuffling over, Salt was given a pat on the back, which he accepted with a gentle bray. Pine then took the space between his family, settling back upon his haunches with a considerable huff. He was devoid of his warpaint, which was a surprise. He tended to hang around with it on for a while longer than the others, perhaps simply loving the fact that he could be singled out. _Or because it helps Pine feel more dominant,_ he jested inwardly.

Reaching out, the two exchanged a firm handshake. ' **Good catch** ,' his brother approved, letting out a few pants and allowing his lips to peel back in a toothy congratulatory sneer. Was he trying that hard to appear as though he cared? ' **Fills the tribe well. Gives little ones strength**.' Slate remained silent, his pate swaying in acknowledgement. Yes, that had been their intent… he felt a pinch of sadness within his lungs, recalling Twig's final rest. Part of him felt rather blue: the white-tail would have grown up to be a mighty fine specimen, but with his untimely demise, that was now impossible. The other part of him, the _callous_ and _insensitive_ part, only appeared for a split second before immediately extinguished. _One less mouth to feed_. One less face to see, one last warm smile, one last member of their colony. One less piece of _ape family_. Slate's eyes rose within the silence and fell upon Krissa, her caramel lids and dark lashes heavy over those intelligent green eyes. "Human.. need to go soon," Pine interjected once more. His head tilted toward him, narrowing his eyes.

Pine was looking at him with passive, listless features, as if what he had just said were a simple fact. ' **She helped catch our dinner, helped bring in pelts** ,' Slate pointed out, gestures on the verge of aggressive. He subdued himself, his temper remaining below the surface. There was no reason to get in his face. Pine straightened up, eyes training themselves upon Krissa. Something behind his strange brown-and-silver depths aroused within him the urge to reach out and restrict his throat until he went limp. His brother's head turned, tilting.

' **Human has worn out welcome** ,' retorted Pine, rolling his eyes and waving him off. ' **She isn't ape. Why worry about what happens? She can walk now**.'

Cornelius had kept her around despite her being of murderous kind. Perhaps it was due to Rocket and Maurice's guidance, but his word overruled their own when it really came down to it. It made Slate wonder how much longer she would be around. Krissa was peaceful and kind. ' **Give her a little while longer. She isn't hurting anyone** ,' Slate excused, pressing his right fist into the ground in order to balance himself.

' **She got in the way at hunt. Clumsy and awkward because of her legs. Gets them tied together** ,' Pine sneered, lips curling up at the corners. It was obvious that he was willing to throw stones at the walls of his own glass house. ' **Like a heron. Tall and delicate. Not meant for hunting**.'

Slate's snout wrinkled and his teeth peeped through his parting lips. "Your nose is.. too high," he fumed. ' **Might float away if you don't get it out of the air. Simple-minded, stupid mouth**.' His ire was beginning to reach its boiling point. Thrusting a digit out toward Krissa, he gritted his teeth. Slate then whisked his hand around and jabbed Pine in the chest, bristling at the scruff. "Did _not_.. get in way!"

With false sincerity, Pine gave him a solemn look. ' **Could have died. Wouldn't want that blood on your hands** ,' he feigned, bringing his mitt to his chest as if he were genuinely worried for him. ' **Everyone knows she's _your_ animal. Your _pet_ , your responsibility**.'

Slate couldn't take it any longer. He snapped. A thundering pant-bark burst from his throat, his teeth bared and gleaming dangerously. His eyes were liquid fire, daring him to make another comment. The younger twin stood over his brother, all heads turned to the two of them, Salt shrinking back after having been startled. A tiny bray escaped him, which drew Pine's attention, and in response to his adoptive sibling's infernal gaze, he rose and quickly scampered away, heading home. After the greyish-brown adolescent had ducked out of sight, Slate slowly lowered himself back down, turning his head away to look upon Krissa. The young woman stared, expressing something indecipherable to him; she then quickly turned her head. Pine huffed. " _You_ ," he articulated, the singular word coated with malice. Then he demanded, ' **You act like she's valuable. Why defend her**?'

' **She has nobody else**!' he shot.

There was a break in their buzzing, angry argument.

Pine's expression became that of complete revulsion. "You.. fool," he growled low. ' **Neither do we. _We_ are our family, she is not. Neither is Salt, or Hail, or Ring. We have nobody, just as this thing**.' Slate suddenly felt sick but was too weakened by his brother's words to retaliate. ' **Quit acting as if you're in control. That beast won't last out here. It either leaves or dies**.' His pounding heart did not slow. Something within him changed, as if someone had just turned the lights on from behind his eyes. Slate had been putting this off for a long time. Sure, they had disagreed before, but when it came to this subject in particular, it infuriated him, indefinitely. His hand shot out and he latched onto his brother's wrist, talons digging into his near raven coat as hard as possible, yanking him forward. Pine stumbled but followed through, the pair coming a hair's-length away from one another. "You touch her again and.. I will _kill_ you."

Pine pulled away as if his brother had just stuck a bee up his nose, scowling deeply. The pair stood up to full height, Slate having risen subconsciously in order to assert himself. "It's in our.. _blood_ ," the marred male clipped. He continued, gestures forceful. ' **To kill them. Hunt them. Hate them. _Our blood_**!'

Curling his lip, he tilted his head louringly, fiery gaze like liquid sunset in the pyre's flames. That's when Slate said it, right to his face, without discretion. Two blunt words with the power to cut down an army. ' **What blood**?'

His twin was visibly shaken, gaping with wide eyes as Slate stormed off, shoulders square.

Pine had said it himself, hadn't he?

* * *

Where did he go? Over to Krissa, of course. Slate couldn't quite describe what he felt as he stalked over, but he knew that something was driving him forward. Her chartreuse eyes locked onto him as he rounded the side of the fire, spear in one hand, the other upholding his weight as he walked. Coming to sit down, he shot one last look at Pine, alone at the fireside. Slate felt his fury hissing between his ears until a small, delicate finger gently graced across his arm. His head turned, tiling on it's joint, his brow heavy. His amber eyes washed over her brows and how they curled closer to one another in concern. Krissa's small mouth lowered in a frown, her gaze searching him for something she surely wouldn't draw out of him. ' **You okay**?' asked the human.

Slate blew hot air through his nose, columns of steam rising from their exit points. He then rolled his eyes, followed by a guttural pant. No, he wasn't okay, but it was too difficult to explain. Sensing this, Krissa drew her hand away. With the contact gone, he felt almost… helpless and exposed, like a newborn. " _Pine_ ," he muttered, being sure to coat his brother's name with generous amounts of bile. The fire sizzled and popped, filling the gap between their discussion. He had always been able to find their silence comfortable. His coat slowly began to lay flush along his spine and shoulders, his body no longer appearing as large and threatening. At long last, he allowed his gaze to wander back over to her, observing how the orange glow bathed her features and how the shadows were painted so perfectly, swaying to the rhythm of the night. His apprentice, huh? Grunting, he caught her attention, shamrock and hazel pools full of curiosity.

' **You hunted well** ,' he extolled, blinking softly. ' **Apes are impressed, proud**.'

Her freckled cheeks deepened in color. ' **Really**?' Her pearly whites gleamed in the pyre's shine. "I'm glad. I didn't think your tribe thought much of me." Krissa directed her scrutiny back toward the flames, bringing her knees further up toward her chest. The ravenette quietly dropped her gaze and her facial features grew sullen. Slate frowned. He had just given her applause for her achievement of the day.. Did this not please her? A lump grew within his throat and he suddenly was unsure of what to say. Should he ask her?

"Slate…" Krissa began, allowing a second to pass in order to choose her words carefully. "Am… Am I the reason you and your brother have been at each other's throats lately?" He tilted his head, lips parting and his hands twitching. What a silly thing to say! Before he could really answer her question, she interjected. "I mean.. your home must have been so normal and peaceful without me around. I was sort of thrust in without warning. What I mean is… I don't want to be disrespectful or rude. If Cornelius wants me gone, I can leave." She rested her chin atop her patella, eyes trained upon the bonfire. Embers spit up into the air, reaching toward the heavens. "My leg is better, Twig was put to rest, I'm no longer sick... Shouldn't I leave now?"

 _Krissa..._

Taking a shuffling side-step closer, Slate broke one of his big boundaries and nudged her arm gently with his knuckles, just as he would with one of his own. ' **I'm proud of you** ,' he reiterated. The charcoal-grey simian then brought his pointers to the thick material of her sweatshirt, pressing into her manubrium. Slate's paw lingered there for a few moments longer, the breath stilling within his larynx as he felt her heart hiccuping beneath his curled digits. His appendage eventually fell away. He swallowed hard. Her eyes were large, glistening with welling tears. "One of us. You should.. Stay."

Krissa sniffled softly and beamed, nodding her head. "Then I'll stay." There was a beat. Unfurling her physique, she leaned over and supported her weight on one hand, taking the time to crane her neck and place a soft kiss on his cheek. Slate was completely caught off guard, the skin where her lips had brushed feeling as though it were being chewed by fire ants. His belly tightened and twisted into various knots, his breath stolen away. Grip cramping down around his spear, he croaked timorously and gawked at her, which Krissa didn't seem to mind.

Instead, she met his gaze, her warm breath stirring his cheeks. "That means thank you," she murmured, straightening back up next to him and resting her cheek upon her knees. "For everything."

* * *

 **Author's Note:** _**Heya pals, Blue here**! It has just turned midnight now and I have finally finished up this long, long chapter for y'all. I really hope you enjoyed this one, seeing as how after simply four months, the two have grown more comfortable with one another (as has the tribe, more or less). Twig's passing will be reflected on more and more throughout the novel, so I hope you're ready for some tear-jerkers. __I wish to add more to the note, but right now I'm pretty drained from putting all my energy into finishing **Chapter XI** for you guys, so I'm off to get some shut-eye._

 _ **I hope you all enjoyed this chapter and as always,** **I'd love to hear from you guys about what you think, so feel free to leave a review, and don't forget to fav/follow**! _

_Thank you so so much for following Slate and Krissa on this journey so far- don't worry, there's plenty more to come, so stay tuned._

 _ **Love you guys lots~ xo See you in the next chapter!**_

 _ **[Proof edited 27/03/2018 2:28am]**_


	13. The Truth (Chapter XII)

Slate awoke with his heart thrumming in his chest, drawn out of a deep, dark and dreamless sleep. As he rested there, staring up at the tightly-woven ceiling with a hand upon his breast, he heard his brother's husky tone bouncing around between his ears. _"We are our family, she is not."_ His entire body, despite covered in a thick layer of fur, was plunged into a great cold sweat, his eyes blinking away sleep that glossed over his amber irises and inky pupils. Swallowing heavily, the charcoal simian rose up in his nest, eyeing the empty spot where Krissa had been resting just hours before he had finally taken to resting. Poppy, instead, resting on her side of the expanded nest, unaware of her human friend's absence. Curious, he glanced around, finding that her backpack had been opened. Slate understood boundaries, but right now his sleepy brain got the best of him. The chimpanzee slipped from his bedding and down onto his knuckles, plodding over to the human's hiking bag. He reached inside with careful hands, finding only a pair of rolled up knit socks, along with her button-up. A gust of hot air escaped him and he glanced up toward his sister with wariness, wondering if he would wake her up if he were not careful.

Like a mischievous little one, he pulled the large sack closer and began to rummage through, examining the book he had given her with intrigue. Then, beneath, he caught glimpse of something else that he found rather interesting. Yet another book, ragged and spilling with loose sheets and pieces of parchment with scrawl. A very weird contraption made of black plastic with two rings of glass staring up at him. Snaking his hand down, he placed _The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe_ down on the dry stone beneath him before retrieving the strange object. Narrowing his eyes, Slate examined it further, turning it's alien frame around and around within his leathery hands. The inky brute prodded the clear pieces of glass, peering with apprehension. What was _this_ supposed to do? Something foggy was visible from his end, which drew his attention forward, bringing the set to his fiery tawny depths. Slate was startled by what he saw in front of him, feeling minuscule now as his sister was now the size of a bubble. Bewildered by how something could become so far away in a blink of the eye, he just about pitched the binoculars away from himself.

Then he realized that if he broke them, Krissa would find out. Slate quickly moved them away from his face, he returned them to the backpack and leaned it back up against the wall. Never again would he go through her bag. Not ever.

Exiting his home and allowing Poppy to rest a little longer, the dark grey simian sauntered onwards, peering out and over at the group of males preparing to leave for the day. Typically he would have attended, but with Krissa's odd disappearance that morning, he was more concerned with at least figuring out where she had gone. Besides, from what he could see, Pine was among them... and he still was bitter over what had happened the evening before. Recalling the events, he felt his gut harden. From where his kin sat, smearing war paint across another's front, he noticed how his bicolored eyes flickered up toward where he was positioned off a few feet. Before he could react, however, Slate curled his lip and pressed onward, traveling forward in no direction in particular. A head of blonde hair caught his attention, immediately sparking his interest. Humans were so close; perhaps Nova knew of where the ravenette had vanished to.

The young girl was just joining two familiar faces, Maurice and Rocket, whom seemed to be discussing something rather cold sober. Feeling a frown lace his lips, he approached nonetheless. They could at least have the decency to take pause and answer his questions. Blue eyes drifted up to spot him and Nova's face pinched to his surprise, nudging Maurice with a dainty pale hand. Something seemed to be the matter, and although he didn't think much of it at first, he came to the quick realization that his pace and quickened slightly. ' **Nova** ,' he addressed. His fellow apes turned their heads, both with grave looks upon their faces. ' **Maurice, Rocket**.'

A firm few grunts escaped him before his attention returned to the human in question. "Kris," he rasped, immediately getting to the point. After bringing a hand to his chest, he then gestured toward Nova, followed by gracefully curling his pinky and his fourth digit into his palm, splaying his index and middle, and bringing the pad of his lowered finger to the dark skin just beneath his right eye. ' **Have you seen her**?' There was a pause. Before he could really get a clear answer, Rocket's bulky frame rose with a huff and he sauntered off, giving Maurice a partial look of _"this is your job, not mine"_. Nova's baby blues fell and she then exchanged a look with the massive orang.

A pang washed through his gullet and his chest tightened. Slate's facial features hardened. ' **Where is she**?' he inquired once more. ' **What's going on**?' he eventually demanded, beginning to become rather uppity due to their secrecy. " _Tell me_."

Maurice gurgled. ' **She is just fine. Out with Cornelius**.'

Narrowing his eyes, he drew his head back in question, his lips flattening and drawing upward. "Cornelius?" he echoed, slightly bewildered. His prince, whom had been so reluctant to bring her into their home? Who had nearly had her slaughtered by Slate's own brother? ' **Why with him**?'

' **They are discussing matters**...' the orangutan answered vaguely. His olive-flecked gaze held something he could not exactly explain. ' **About your brother, and what happened yesterday**.'

Slate swallowed. So they knew? This brought on two conflicting thoughts, both fighting to overpower one another. Despite having been a stranger to the apes in the very beginning, the past four months had helped her find her place, and now she was finally beginning to weave her way into the tapestry that was their colony. It brought him pride, although he hated to admit it, and he was thankful for how accepting others had been. Nonetheless, there were still apes who weren't as inclined as others when it came to accepting her. Cornelius had been one of those, yet he had allowed her to stay... The main question was whether she was a valued member of the colony or not. If she were, perhaps they would go the extra mile to see if she wished to have Pine given punishment for his actions. If not, would they even care? ' **What of it? He was being normal stupid Pine** ,' he excused, rolling his eyes and waving the matter off with a dismissive gesture. ' **Besides, Cornelius saved her hide. She's alive**.'

' **That is not what I wish to speak with you about** ,' Maurice began to explain.

' **Then what is it**?' he interrogated, teeth flashing. He wasn't interested in small talk right now. Slate only frowned deeper as Nova rose and excused herself, passing her hand over the elder's shoulder. Slate's eyes followed her until the orangutan's resounding burble broke the silence, drawing his pate back around. Rising from where his rotund body rested, Maurice gestured for him to follow. Slate, apprehensive at first, shot a glance over his shoulder. Pine's leer burned into his dark coat, which only turned up the temperature of his simmering blood. With a low snarl in his direction, his twin rose from where he stood and turned his scarred mug away. Slate felt the urge to bash his brains in. Tearing his gaze away, the inky chimp glared after Maurice as he followed in suit, heading for the royal family's hut. Torches burned bright on either side of it's entrance, having yet to be extinguished once the sun were higher in the sky. The morning was still dim and the sun astray from it's usual place. The moon would most likely be visible on the opposite side of the mountain, which Slate was slightly disappointed that he would not get to see.

Maurice turned left then, which surprised him. He glanced between the auburn lout leading the way and the hut in front of them, his head tilting slightly in perplexity. Finally, after a tiny moment of inner contemplation, he continued to follow after the tutor. They headed off down along a ridge that few would follow, rounding the side of the education tree and plodding up along the ledges, peering down at the drop below. They traveled higher and higher, Slate coming to pause as he noticed the golden rays beginning to peep over the distance cusp of the oasis hills. Belong the lake glistened, the woods a sea of auburn, gold, scarlet and emerald. Was Krissa out there somewhere? Breaking himself out of his ponderings as Maurice clucked at him, urging him to keep up, he proceeded onward with careful precision, eyeing how the rocks loosened slightly along the way. They clattered and scattered, some falling over the edge and down into the trees far below. After nearly ten more minutes of climbing, they finally made it to a grassy patch, a large face of rock behind them, massive gnarled roots from a leaning sequoia traveling down in frayed ends, searching fruitlessly for water and earth. Maurice finally came to rest with a puff of air, the grass stirring. It was spongy and cool underfoot. ' **Why bring me here**?' he asked, eyes probing at the greying orangutan. Slate came to settle down next to him, albeit uncomfortably. ' **Couldn't talk to me down in ape village**?'

His companion's head tilted and his gaze gleamed mischievously. ' **What is wrong with privacy**?'

Frowning once more, Slate gazed off toward the scenery before him. He had to admit, it was certainly a wonderful sight. In the distance, an eagle let out a high-pitched giggle, it's great snowy head and tail visible between a body of powerful mottle wings. Taking a deep breath, he felt his shoulders relax. Maurice finally piped up once more, drawing his attention back. ' **I am concerned about Pine** ,' he finally admitted, emerald eyes drifting off toward the horizon.

Slate kept his eyes upon the old sage. He was worried for his brother? He felt his belly wobble unexpectedly. He was too, now that he thought about it. No matter how they got at each other's throats, he adored his sibling. "Why?" he vocalized, although he knew where this was heading.

' **From what I have been told, he tried to harm Krissa during yesterday's hunt** ,' Maurice pointed out. ' **If this is true**...' His hands hovered, trailing on what he wished to convey. 'If this is true, he may be capable of more.' He had known the old orangutan to make grave remarks, but this took the cake. His brother? Kill another? He wanted to defend Pine, but in this situation, he struggled to think of a way to make up an alibi for him. It was funny really, how he strived to protect his twin from ridicule as if he were innocent, even after their disagreement the evening before. Even after he had witnessed first-hand what his intentions were toward Krissa. Killing was one thing, but _murder_? Slate was unable to speak, for once, and thus he kept silent.

 _Pine tried to kill her_ , a tiny voice goaded cruelly. You threatened him just the same.

Maurice's eyes finally drifted over to Slate's tawny set. ' **The reason I am bringing this up is not only because I worry for Krissa** ,' the orangutan disclosed. Listening carefully, he took in his graceful hands and his movements, paying attention to the wise ape's thoughts on his brother. Focusing hard, he lingered on every word, as if he'd miss something if he became distracted.

' **It is because myself and others have noticed a deep hatred in Pine.. like your father had once carried**.'

Slate's gut plunged, his heart kick-started by a violent burst of adrenaline. He suddenly could no longer feel his hands. A tense silence filled the gap, electricity crackling. The birdsong from off in the valley was shrill and uninvited to the chimp's ears, his coat rising slightly. His eyes slowly grew, just about bulging out of his skull. Hail? Was he talking about _Hail_? That made absolutely no sense, so why... No, he had to be talking about Hail. He isn't your father. He adopted you, the tiny voice reminded. You were unwanted. Slate felt ill. He raised his leathery hands. ' **My father** ,' he echoed in disbelief, tilting his chin down slightly. He suddenly felt as vulnerable as a white-tail, settled next to Maurice with his dark face painted in bewilderment. His expression crumpled, anger replacing shock. "My.. father. What do you mean, my father?"

' **Koba** ,' Maurice affirmed, holding a grossly earnest expression. The male flinched. His skin began to crawl, his head reeling from the bombardment of information. There was too much to take in right now- far too much. He had so many question yet couldn't find his voice in order to ask them. _Unwanted_. That was all that was bouncing between his ears and wriggling within the thick layer of his encephalitic matter. How? _Why_? Once again he ended up agape at the tutor's confession. His father was.. ' **You are his and so are Pine and Poppy**.'

His father was a murderer. A tyrant, a scourge. A monster. ' **This is hard to take in** ,' Maurice comforted, attempting to make him feel better with his kind words. ' **Your father's hatred for humans was a great influence for your brother**.'

It all made sense now: how bloodthirsty and eager to please he had been during Koba's reign, how vein, cold and sadistic Pine had become afterwards. A great lump formed within his throat. Slate felt a great wave of anger wash over him, intermingled with grief. His head tilted away, eyes training upon the grass in something close to horror. "He.. knows?" Slate breathed. His pate screw around and he curled his lip over at Maurice's flat face.

' **Koba told him, long ago**.'

' **And Pine never told me? Nobody thought to tell me? What about my sister**?!'

The orangutan burbled, asserting that he needed to relax. Slate retracted himself back a step, yet kept his teeth bared. ' **There was no easy way of explaining this to a juvenile** ,' Maurice clarified firmly, shaking his crown. He then proceeded on with his explanation, ' **Over time, as you grew, I was afraid he may take the same path Koba had chosen. I began to believe that you would as well, but once I discovered that you had become attached to a human, I knew I no longer had to worry.** '

Krissa was not human. She was family. Slate felt the first warm golden rays of sunshine as the ball of heavenly light burst up over the horizon, falling over the woods below in a growing blanket of honey. Dawn had broken. His head fell and suddenly Slate was speechless for the first time in a long while. Cognac eyes drifting up, he gazed off over the canopy of autumn and evergreen, taking in a deep breath of cool air. Emotions bubbled within his head, his head feeling as though it were heavy from all that had been dumped on top of it. "My .. mother?" he finally asked.

"Mist," uttered Maurice. Slate's throat tightened. Twig... _Lake_. He now understood why Maurice had discouraged his attraction toward the beautiful female chimp. What did that make him then? _Half-breed_. Mixed blood. Mixed genes. Tawny eyes drifting down, he gazed at his hands, studying their wrinkled surface and his dark nails, then the lines upon the flesh of his palms.. Distracted from his thoughts as the orangutan rose from his place, he watched him amble off somewhere, long sinewy arms hoisting himself up along the ancient roots spilled over the surface of the craigs and rocks behind the two. Numb at this point, Slate returned his attention to the rising sun, the sky becoming rosy, fog drifting up over the lake. The sudden thud of Maurice's body returning to the small plateau merely earned a glance over his shoulder. Slate was unable to bring himself to look in the orangutan's direction- that was, until he caught sight of something in his hand. A spear pointed skyward, old and carved, yet sturdy and reliable. Cautiously, he took the weapon when passed to him and began to examine in further. A pang suddenly flushed through him. This was Koba's.

' **Was meant for Pine, but you fit it better** ,' Maurice praised, blinking graciously and dipping his concave mug. ' **He was an excellent hunter, just like you. Passionate, strong, loyal**.'

There was an odd pause as he felt a slight flicker of pride within his chest. He couldn't fight the faint smile lace his lips. The outcross male then felt it fade as his thoughts of frustration returned. ' **Still tried to kill Caesar** ,' Slate piped up, gritting his teeth. ' **You say Pine will end up like him, thought I would too**.' His grip tightened around the weapon in his hand, finding newly-found strength and ire within him. His next words were potent and dark, yet inscribed with deep emotion. Maurice watched he rose to his hind legs. ' **Do I look like a monster to you**?!'

Once again, there was that look again, as if he were seeing something in him that he could not. As if he were recalling a faint memory, or looking upon someone he had once forgotten and now recognized. Within that moment, he realized just what he had been seeing in him that day back in the Education Tree. Slate couldn't bare it. He let out a breathy growl and turned away from Maurice, storming back off down along the ridge in the morning's candied light.

* * *

Slate didn't even notice that his prince and Krissa had returned. He stormed right past them and straight for the females resting in the sunshine under the dogwood and enjoying their breakfast. "Mist, Poppy, where?" he demanded, holding his father's spear tightly in his grip. When they failed to answer him immediately, he signed sharply and barked, "Where?"

A few of them flinched before a familiar head rose, light emerald eyes hard. ' **Down at the apricot grove** ,' Lake replied, her flat lips curling into a frown. She then softened slightly, tilting her head. The bones hanging from her crown clamored gently. ' **Are you okay**?' Ignoring Lake's concern, Slate stalked off once more, anger welling within his belly. He couldn't stand it; each step was agony as he pushed himself forward down the slope and along the ledges. Finally he was brought to a cleared area with two massive wild apricot trees, picking the late developed fruit from it's branches. Some tended to the vegetables off a ways and some were further off harvesting nuts and leaves. Once again, he demanded for them, before he finally spotted them. His heart wavered.

Slate felt his throat tighten and his features softened as soon as he saw Poppy's young face. Mist's head followed, looking up from her basket. He felt as though he were now glued to the spot, staring at the two females and seeing the sudden shocking similarities between the two. Maurice hadn't been lying. Not when he could even see Koba in his brother's features.. not when he slowly felt his hair begin to bristle at the thought of his own damn reflection. Mist's face held a pleasant expression of greeting and motherly warmth. It haunted him, knowing that this was how she looked at all three of them, including Lake, even after Twig's death.

His eyes remained glued to Mist's face. Anger and heartbreak burned within those handsome eyes of his. "You knew," he growled. Her smile began to wilt and Poppy glanced between the two. Cautious, the small female noticed the building emotion upon her elder brother's face, and took a step toward him. A soft peep of question escaped her as she signed, ' **Brother**?'

Mist's eyes fell upon the weapon in his hand and Slate followed her emerald set, then quickly returned his attention to her crestfallen expression. **'You knew all this time and didn't tell us**?' Heads began to turn, curious about the drama.

Poppy grew fearful. ' **Slate? What has gotten into you**?'

" _Ask our mother_!" he snarled, voice cutting through the sudden silence.

Poppy let out a squeak and shied away, taking a step back. That's when confusion painted her petite features. Her head turned and the two both came together to stare at their mother; Slate glowered and Poppy gawked. ' **Mother**?' she signed apprehensively.

Mist glanced from one to the other, beginning to shrink back. "I wanted to protect.. you.." she tried to explain. Her eyes pinched and began to watery with emotion. ' **Koba wanted to keep it secret after I told him I was in love with Button**.'

"Koba?" Poppy questioned, utterly perplexed and bewildered. Her pygmy frame shrank further.

This was rich. "Yet.. he told .. Pine," rasped Slate.

Mist's jaw dropped. She looked between the two, blinking vigorously. ' **My.. children** ,' she finally signed. Poppy slowly took a step back, as if afraid her mother's touch would burn her. Slate, looking onward, scowled much like Koba had once. He then wheeled around and turned his bristling spine to his family, knuckling away. He couldn't feel anything right now, nor calm his wagging tongue, and thus took his leave. The field was left in silence, aside from the birds above.

* * *

He couldn't find Krissa. Slate was settled up in the dogwood tree above the main part of the ape village, his eyes staring off toward the horizon, back toward his old home in the Muir Woods. His mind ghosted toward the idea of his father's body, long since deteriorated in the rubble of a fallen building in a ghost town... devoid of humans and apes alike. In the past. That's where he had been laid to rest. Slate curled his lip and wrinkled his snout. The outcross ape then allowed his opticals to scower the forest canopy and the endless amount of sequoias swaying in the autumn breeze. A gust of wind caused the branches to sway, Slate riding along leisurely without a care in the world. His father was a monster, his mother was untrue. That was his lineage and it made his skin crawl. Not only that, but he had failed to give Twig a proper older brother figure before his untimely demise. All sound became muffled and he shut his eyes, giving into the darkness as he held his father's old spear in a snug grip. He felt alien. He felt disgusting, as if he had lost himself within a few simple, short minutes.

It wasn't until he heard an alarm call that he tilted his cranium and peered of toward the entrance. From where he sat, he could hear his family's cries growing louder and louder, contributing to the chorus of howls and hoots of alarm. What on earth was going on now? Pinching his eyes, he strained to see what was going on, his attention finally falling on the male he loathed. For a split second, he could see Koba's disfigured face let out a roar of triumph, only for him to come down from the clouds and come to the realization that his twin brother was leading the troop in. They had a prisoner, bound by the nets used for capturing black-tail and white-tail alike. The person in question? He was human, dressed in a faded greyish-blue pullover, torn jeans and combat boots. His heart palpitated. He came to his senses. Another human? Where was Krissa? Slate ambled down a few branches so he could get a closer look. The male had a head of dark hair and olive skin, his face scuffy and unshaven. A growl rumbled within his chest. The same routine took place.

Rocket, Maurice and Cornelius waited atop the ledge, and the human was forced down into the stone and mud. A grunt escaped him as Marshal shoved his face into the grime below him, obligating him to bow. Silence fell as Cornelius raised a paw. ' **Another human, Pine**?' Rocket observed, clearly angry. ' **Have you not learned your lesson**?'

' **Too many humans. Could lead others here**!' Pine declared, eyes searching for the ravenette. From his short time knowing Koba, he could remember the sound of his voice and could pick it up in his brother's vocals lickadisplit. Ire began to burn so hot within Slate's veins that he was sure his blood would scald his heart. How could he say such a thing, after such a long time of working with Krissa! He knew that Krissa had been alone- he had seen it with his own two eyes. Pine was as blind as a worm.

' **Should have left outside**!' Cornelius gestured, teeth baring.

"Blood must spill!" Pine screamed.

"Kill the human!" shrilled another ape from not far off.

"Hey man, just lemme go!" the human begged, speaking through bloodied teeth. There was an obvious swelling in his left eye from where he had struggled. "I won't- won't come back, I promise!" Marshal suddenly brought his spear down into the young man's ribs, causing him to shriek in pain and grab for them. They would most likely be bruised or cracked now. Slate couldn't help but flinch. The apes surrounding went ballistic as he coughed in pain, crawling around in the mud and looking up at their leader from where he cowered. Cornelius's eyes washed over the clear, then to Maurice. Slate began picking out faces of anger and mistrust, and some of fear. One in particular caught his attention: Nova. She stood, staring at the man in the ground with a look of horror on her face. Then, all at once, he found Krissa, trying to push her way through the ring of apes.

What on earth was she doing?! Slate ambled from branch to branch, attempting to call out to her to get her to stay back, but was drown out by all the cries. She couldn't possibly know this human, could she? Pine, bellowing at the top of his lungs, raised his spear and twisted around, egging on the followers that joined in with a chorus. He then turned to the human in front of him, taking the man's dark hair in his hand and hoisting him up just as he had once down with Krissa. His next was exposed and the deadly end of his spear rose back, preparing to make the killing blow. The tension grew and then snapped-

"Stop! _Stop this_!" Krissa flung herself out into the open area surrounding the ledge that her prince was settled upon and boldly grabbed Pine's spear. His brother was surprised by this and reeled back, stumbling until he caught himself and whipped around, turning on her with a roar of anger. He approached her from where she rested in the dirt and raised his fists. Slate was there within a split second, barging through the colony members that had gathered and clearing the distance between himself and his brother. He brought his father's up with a great heave and slammed it with a crack right into the side of Pine's skull, sending him sprawling to the ground. The entire clear blew up, a cacophony of thunderous simian alarms drowning out the afternoon birds and the wind whistling in the trees. He barely caught the sound of Krissa shouting his name as he lunged straight for Pine, the two tumbling into the mud until he came to pin his brother down, raising the spear's perilous end into the air with a roar tearing from his throat. Pine was lucky enough to wrench himself from his brother's grip just as the blade came crashing down, grazing his cheek and then embedding itself into the earth where his cranium had once rested.

As swift as the river, Slate was back on his hind legs and facing his brother down, who quickly took the upper hand. Pine bowled him over, ducking and slamming into his gut with a broad shoulder, the two skidding over stone and leaving scrapes and bruises that would surely hurt the next day. Then came the battering fists, his brother's arms swinging down and colliding with his unsuspecting jaws and nose. Metallic crimson flooded through his throat, filling his canines and staining them with faint claret. Slate struggled and yeeped pitifully as he was beat, up until finally he managed to find an opening and twisted his entire body, catching is siblings arm and yanking it out of the air. The momentum sent Pine collided hard with the ground, giving Slate enough time to duck out of the way and dash for the daunting spear settled in the mud.

"SLATE!-" Krissa's voice cut off just as Pine's weapon bore down on him from above. He had only a few seconds to react and careened back, Koba's weapon coming to rest within either of his hands in a firm grip as he blocked his brother's assault. The tip of the spear gleamed dully in the greying light heavy clouds beginning to fill the stretch above and rain beginning to fall. Pine and Slate's gazes locked momentarily, the two in the midst of a power struggle, only for the outcross male to shove his twin back in a fierce burst of ire and hatred. Their spears went flying together, as did their bodies as Slate soared toward his brother, evidently landing on top of him. Straddling the disfigured outcross beneath him, he began to punch and wail on his brother, watching as blood began to ooze just as it had for himself just moments before.

They rolled once more, but Slate refused to allow Pine to turn the tables; With a desperate claw, he grasped hold of something hard and brought it up across his brother's skull once again, coming out on top recurrently. With a mighty bray, he began to press the shaft of Koba's spear down into his brother's throat, suffocating him. Pine choked and stared up at his brother, pawing desperately at his hands-

 _Yes- This is it- This is what you've wanted-_

And then he felt hands upon his back, drawing him out of the fervent haze of red that blinded him.

"Slate, stop.. Please!" Krissa sobbed. Shocked by the sound of her voice, he gawked down at his gaping brother and drew away, as if he had bit him. The human helped him to his hind legs and they staggered away, Slate still staring down at his bloodied sibling, watching as he rolled onto his hands and knees, grabbing at his throat and wheezing.


	14. The Lie (Chapter XIII)

Krissa ambled along the almost stepping-stone-esc path to the royal family's hut, her stomach in knots and her hands wringing one another. It was early in the morning, just before the first light had taken to the sky, and she had slipped out unnoticed by Slate and his sibling. The stone was cold beneath her bare toes, her ankles nipped by the breeze from where her pants had been cuffed up. Her pullover seemed to lack the capability to keep her warm at that moment, but she knew that eventually she would warm up; daily activities kept her busy, and ergo keeping her slender frame at a reasonable temperature. As she ascended, Krissa could only recall how fierce the prince had appeared the day before- fiercer than she had ever seen him during a hunt. Cupping her hands, she brought them to her lips and blew a hot gust of precious air, temporarily heating up her frigid fingers. The day would eventually come to its peak of fifty-nine degrees fahrenheit, but until then, she needed to get the blood flowing in her veins. Coming to a stop, she eyed the entrance of the royal hut, peering at the torches aflicker and then at what she could make out inside, lit by an inviting yet faint citrine glow. Hugging herself, Krissa took a step forward, her lips parting as she began to find her voice. Would the prince even be inside?

Glancing over her shoulder, she felt apprehensive at first, unsure of whether she should simply step indoors and search for his Highness on her own, or if she should simply call out and wait for someone to answer. As soon as her scrutiny returned to the inside if the hut, she was met by two large emerald eyes and a pale face. Cornelius arched his brows as she squeaked softly, nearly jolting back in surprise. "Your Majesty, I-I -" she stammered, then caught herself, swallowing. He tilted his dark head. Honestly, Cornelius was quite a handsome specimen. His cocoa-brown fur was thick and grew thoroughly, his shoulders broad and his neck thick and muscular. The prince stood at the same height as Slate did, a few inches taller than she. Cornelius seemed to be inspect her with mild confusion. "I apologize for the.. er.. the interruption. I was meaning to speak to you.."

' **I've been awake for an hour** ,' he disclosed, shaking his head. His passive expression tilted away from her, gazing off listlessly across the silent clearing. 'Your company is not an interruption.' Cornelius then shot her a side-glance before pivoting and beginning to limp forward. Krissa, feeling as though it would be rude to simply allow him to walk away and wait for his beckon, followed behind as they traveled down into the center of the little town. There was a tense silence for a moment as the two came to the other side of the colony's main square, the prince coming to a stop as soon as he neared the entrance. He peered over at her, seeming to abruptly notice that she had followed, evidently leading to his lips pressing into a flat line. Cornelius came to all fours and settled back upon his haunches, raising a hand to sign. He seemed to be perplexed. ' **What is it you wish to speak about**?'

Clearing her throat, Krissa came to kneel next to him, meeting his height. Was this what you were supposed to do with an alpha. ' **I want to thank you, for yesterday** ,' Krissa began. Cupping her hand, she created a _"c"_ like formation, then waved it to the left; she then followed by giving him a _"thumbs-up"_ and jerking it in the opposite direction. ' **At the hunt**.'

His emerald eyes expressed something that she could not quite make out in the dark. A huff escaped his nostrils, which she indicated meant he wasn't too pleased. ' **Need to be more careful** ,' he advised. Krissa was surprised by his lecture. Was he actually concerned for her safety? ' **You may be quick, but bucks are quicker**.'

Now was her time for her brows to knit. Her head bobbed quickly, attempting to convey that she understood. 'I'm clumsy compared to apes. I need to learn how to move without getting in the way,' she interpreted. Sighing heavily, she readjusted so she were sitting with her legs crossed beneath her. Krissa looked off across the sleeping town, noticing that the sky was slowly illuminating into a lazy shade of royal blue. ' **The only thing is… I don't know what I can do in order to make things easier.** ' The survivor understood that she was speaking her mind more often than not lately, recalling how she had attempted to tell Pine off just moments before the incident. Shaking her head, she held her tongue on the subject. There was no reason to go blabbing everything to everyone and their mother. Perhaps it had just been an accident that the brutish chimp had collided with her, but with his common impulsive behavior and his hatred toward her, Krissa was slowly beginning to understand Slate's suspicions. Why he was taking it to such an extreme as just about tearing into his brother and alerting the whole clearing in the process, she was unsure.

"Show you.. Have an idea," Cornelius piped up, his hushed vocals naturally hoarse within his throat. Krissa's pate turned and their eyes latched onto one another. They gleamed with something she yet again couldn't quite decipher. ' **If you're willing to listen**.'

Unease billowing in her belly, she hesitated. Cornelius had never offered anything to her- hell, they had barely spoken until now. Not only that, but he had nearly had her killed the day he had met her. If it hadn't have been for Maurice and Rocket, she was positive that her blood would have been spilled. Krissa swallowed, trying to ignore the chilling thought of her own throat being torn open. Wordlessly, she nodded, and followed the prince as he quickly guided her outside of their walls, heading down the slope in the dark. Her feet carried her with grace as they traveled over the cool earth, keeping up easily with the chimp as he trotted on all fours. Granted, she had to run in order to do so, but it was worth it. The fresh air kept her body at a comfortable temperature as she kept pace. Cornelius was right: perhaps she was quick. It had taken months for her body to adjust to such speed all the time, but Krissa was now thankful, for it had made her body even stronger than it had been before.

They eventually came to a dip in the ground where they ducked off to the left, taking a short cut down the mossy hill and the tumbling ivy. The clamoring sound of their bodies crashing through the brush alerted a flock of nearby doves, sending them up into the air in a panicked flourish of feathers. Cornelius hooted in amusement at the terrified birds and Krissa grinned in turn. Taking a bold leap to her left, she veered, dismissing her prince's grunts of question and startling another nearby flock with a burst of laughter. Once again, the royal chimp chortled throatily, slowing to join her. The sky was slowly growing brighter with each passing moment, and eventually the trees above were painted in thick looming veins of ink against the cobalt. "You know, I never ventured this far," Krissa admitted once the tension was finally gone between the two. It felt as though she were simply accompanying an old friend, just as she would Slate. Cornelius stirred next to her, listening to her carefully. "I mean, it was something I was planning on doing eventually, but Pine's patrol found me before I could. Truth be told, the waterfall was where I was planning on setting up camp."

"Fish means.. food" he agreed. "Water too." There was a pause. ' **Not too smart though, moving. Could have been safe at old tent**.'

She rolled her eyes, sighing heavily. "Slate wouldn't let me live it down when he heard that that was why I was captured…" Krissa complained, swinging a hand up in front of her in a wide gesture of ridicule. "I swear, he's like my dad was- always worried and uptight for no reason.."

Cornelius hummed in his own inhuman tone, as if he understood. "Protective," he added.

Krissa felt her ears burn. "It's going to get him in trouble some day.." she mumbled, trying to smother the conversation until it was dead. Thankfully, she was answered with silence from the prince, understanding that it was best to leave it alone. The two came to a clearing and Krissa had to narrow her eyes in order to get them to adjust to the dim light of the early hours. It only took her a few moments before she eventually realized that he had brought her back to the sight of the catch. She swallowed heavy. That's when she realized that she was alone, without a weapon, accompanied by the prince of the apes. Cornelius was a stranger to her, and upon realizing just how uncomfortable she felt without Slate being at least somewhere _close_ , she couldn't deny the anxiety rising up in her chest. Thankfully Cornelius wouldn't be able to see it unless he searched for it.

' **Come** ,' he gestured, vaguely coaxing her with an index finger. Krissa wasn't going to refuse him, now was she? Following after the furry king, she was careful where she put her bare feet, feeling apprehensive about basically everything she could put her mind to. What was he intending to teach her? Shouldn't Rocket be teaching her? Maybe even -

No, she didn't need his help. If she were going to somehow fit in, she needed to do it her own way, without Slate's guidance. _Gotta push boundaries_ , she thought, knowing that her father would say the same thing. _It's the only way to learn, babygirl_. They approached the fallen timbre that she so clearly remembered jumping over and racing alongside of; bringing her fingers to grace across the wood, she allowed them to slowly explore its mossy, slick surface. Cornelius came to a stop and reached out, offering her a hand. Cautiously, she took it and he assisted her in stepping up on top. ' **Focus on jumping and tackling. Use all your body force** ,' he began. ' **Then we can focus on climbing**.'

Okay, jumping and tackling... wait, what was she supposed to use as a target? Krissa looked to her teacher with a look of question, only to come to the abrupt realization that he intended for her to assault _him_ instead of, say, a log or a rock. Her heart hiccuped in her chest as he began to back up, preparing to make his way down along the length of the log. Cornelius seemed to notice her apprehension and stilled. ' **Don't hold back** ,' were the last few signs he made before sprinting away, heading toward the meadow. Holy hell! Kicking up moss beneath her, she bolted for the ground and went flying after him, fueled by adrenaline. Her heart pounded in her ears, startled by how quickly he had begun the lesson. Without warning, she just about wrapped herself around a gnarled old tree, although thankfully moved swiftly enough out of the way so she could avoid having an accident bring her first practice to a screaming halt. Krissa stumbled at first, but then began to gradually build herself up to a comfortable pace, ignoring the pain in her feet with each solid step.

It took her fifteen minutes to finally find him, and by then she had to stop and catch her breath. The chimp, breaking his facade of " _prey_ ", ambled over and rested himself up on top of the grassy slope not far from where she laid. The birds were beginning to sing in the trees, awakening just before the sunrise in order to watch the sky change color. "Do you have to move so fast?" she puffed, holding her throbbing face in her sweaty palms. Cornelius let out an amused snort and pant-laughed.

' **If it doesn't feel real, it won't work** ,' he mused, rising and knuckling over. Krissa grunted as the prince gave her a nudge in the ribs, attempting to rouse her from her state of exhaustion. Cornelius then began to pad ahead, his pace slowly growing quicker. Over his shoulder, he continued to egg her on. ' **Get up. We need to keep going**.'

Krissa shook her head and rolled over, rising to her knees. "Why don't we try having you run a different way?" she suggested desperately. This unfortunately only earned her a look of displeasure, his nose twitching. Raising her hands, she allowed her eyes to fall. She still couldn't help but feel as though she were simply running in circles, chasing after some fool who felt that it would somehow help her. "Okay, fine. Your way or no way." As Cornelius grunted and turned, racing off into the forest, she groaned. This was clearly just a warm-up for him. Swallowing heavily, she leaned back, her hands on her hips. Krissa stared up at the sky for a moment, before she rolled her neck on it's joint and darted after him. Frustration burned within her gullet as she forced herself through each step of agony, her legs pumping quickly and her lungs beginning to ache from the exertion. Her system was already exhausted after perhaps a meter or so. " _Damnit_!" she hissed under her breath. Then, louder, "Damnit!" Suddenly, as if summoned by her outcry, she saw the approaching form of the prince- heading toward her. Her chest constricted and she just about felt her eyes roll out of her head from how much they bulged. Once within a reasonable distance, she quickly sprinted faster and then lunged, soaring forward and colliding with the prince with the force of a moving vehicle. The two went tumbling into the grass, the momentum sending them spiraling right toward the massive roots of the nearest sequoia. The prince's head knocked back against the trunk and then Krissa's face collided with his massive furry chest.

They came to a still and she rolled back, nursing her sore beak. Cornelius then began to hoot, immediately thrown into a fit of laughter. She wasn't sure whether it was toward her pain or their circus-act of a tumble. Nonetheless, she still couldn't help but laugh along and shake her head. Well, she had done it.. somehow. Perhaps that had been all that she needed; a little more spring in her stride.

* * *

A few more tries had gotten her right where she needed to be. Climbing had been interesting and she had quickly figured out that it was not her best strength, whatsoever. Without the muscular, long arms of an ape, she could hardly swing herself forward. Tightroping was interesting, yes, but genuinely swinging from branch to branch was a chore. She could jump well enough, but even then there had been a few occasions where the prince had had to rescue her before she fell to her death. Why Cornelius had chosen to bring her so high up into the air was a mystery to her. As the two returned back, the sun honeyed on their figures as they discussed future techniques, she couldn't help but feel as though she had just put in an entire day of work within the span of a few hours. They were just ascended the slopes toward the entrance of the ape village, the pebble-scattered paths loose and dry underfoot, when Krissa slowed her pace and stared off toward Cornelius.

The prince was nearly a foot or two away when he noticed her absence, gazing back over her shoulder. A faint bray caught her attention and her pate tilted, chartreuse eyes peering at her prince with a look of conflict and distress on her freckled face. She could not find her voice. How was she supposed to ask him? "Slate…" she began softly. The prince slowly began to approach closer. "Slate wants me to stay. Nova does, Poppy.."

Cornelius suddenly rose to his hind legs, matching her height and bringing her tongue to a standstill. His forest depths studied her own and suddenly she felt sheepish under his gaze. ' **You'll have to pull your weight with hunting patrols, and with the females** ,' he elucidated, tilting his massive crown. Slowly, Krissa began to feel her rigid shoulders relax. He was accepting her? He suddenly reached out with a long sinewy arm and gripped one of her fragile limbs. "Good human. Maurice, Rocket- my father was.. right to trust."

Her eyes widened, dark lashes fluttering in confusion. ' **I thought** …' she trailed.

A pleasantly warm smile took on his thin ape lips. ' **Visited me, in a dream**.'

A dream? Thank heavens for that… Krissa was unsure if they had some sort of afterlife sorted out for them, or if they praised some sort of spirit or god, but they sure as hell had followed Caesar religiously. She wasn't surprised that his wisdom was thought of even years after his passing. Krissa's lips twitched and she nodded, but her eyes eventually fell. She had to consider all the apes within the colony, not just those who agreed. Pine… Cornelius's hand fell away. "Something.. else?" he asked gently, tenor vocals laced with disappointment. He could read her like an open book, it seemed. Apes were good at that, probably because body language was a huge part of their communication.

"Slate and his brother… they fight because of me. I don't want that." Krissa shook her head and took a deep breath, allowing her eyes to fall closed. Surely there had been tension before her arrival, but it seemed as though her presence had caused it to ignite into a hungry flame. ' **I want to be here peacefully. Not cause conflict**.'

There was a heavy lull, filled only by the cheerful birdsong in the canopy and the swaying of the autumn leaves. Krissa hugged herself, eyes trained on her toes. "Will give you.. Time," Cornelius finally suggested. Her chin tilted up and she looked up from beneath thick lashes. The prince held a look of understanding. ' **Apes will always fight. We are family… they will become more comfortable now that you're part of it**.'

Krissa hadn't quite thought of it that way. She swallowed gently and squeezed her eyes shut, nodding. "Just think. Give me .. an answer later," he reassured, reaching out and tapping a knuckle just beneath her jaw. ' **For now, you are welcome to call ape village home**.'

"Thank you," she breathed softly. With one last look of confirmation and a nod of her prince's head, the ape turned and dropped back down to all fours. Their journey continued, Krissa now feeling as if a huge weight had been lifted off of her shoulders.

* * *

The human let out a hiss of pain as Krissa tended to his scraped and bruised face. His long nose was gashed rather deep, the cut glistening with unshed blood. His dark brown eyes pinched in pain, his teeth gritting visibly from between peeled lips. "Jeez girl!" he grumbled, shutting his bronze lids in complaint. Remaining silent, she continued to dab gently with a ball of cotton, sterilizing what she could. It had been so long since she had last communicated with a human being, so what else was she supposed to do? The two humans sat alone together, the stranger tied up just as she had been the day of her arrival, under the shelter of the Education Tree. It's massive branches shielded them from the showers outside, the cinereal sky spitting frigid droplets. Off a ways was Slate, staring off the other direction, his dark coat still disheveled and matted in places. _"It's going to get him into trouble some day."_ Krissa had been right to think so.

Slate had stepped in just before Pine had had the chance to attack her, bringing his brother to the muddy ground and turning what had once could have been seen as a heroic act into in a mindless battle for power. The brawl had lasted perhaps two or three minutes before Cornelius had finally gone to intervene, although his attempt had evidently been thwarted when she had been first to the plate and pried Slate off of his sibling. Krissa knew that he wouldn't have made it in time. Pine would have died, and what's worse, her prince could have gotten himself hurt. They had immediately separated the two, Marshal hurrying his friend to the Medicine Tree so he could have him looked after. Slate, on the other hand, was now sulking off a ways, unable to even look her way. The council's silence left a looming cloud of "what-if" hanging above their heads. Krissa knew he would be punished.. But how severely?

"Could ya be a bit gentler?" asked the man settled on his back end, arms strapped behind his back. He peered up at her with one eye purple and swollen shut, the other displaying his obvious pain. Again, she did not answer, refusing to even give him a second's glance. Yanking his face to the side, she searched his collar with probing chartreuse eyes. A grunt escaped him. This was his fault. Finding no more cuts, she forced him down onto his side, his shoulder supporting him. Awkwardly, he shuffled, then allowed his cranium to rest on the hard stone. Krissa wrinkled her nose as she attempted to pull his shirt up and examine his sides that he had been gripping so arduously. "Okay, silence. I get it," he mumbled, still trying to strike up a conversation. She could feel other apes looking at her, feel them silently scrutinizing her actions. Did she care right now? No.

Nobody but Slate, Maurice and Poppy had shown her kindness on her first day. Without someone looking after this man, he could perish from infection or other unseen wounds. It was hard to work with this jerk's arms pinned to his sides. Chewing on the inside of her cheek, she weighed her options. "So are you one of those people who can't talk? Like an animals trapped inside of a human body? 'Cause I've seen tons of 'em and you sure don't act like 'em." He spoke with a Boston accent, something she had only heard when she had gone to the coffee shop in downtown Chicago. She missed Mac. Without really considering all the attention she had upon her, Krissa reached down and used the knife strapped to her thigh to cut the bindings around him. The stranger was shocked at first, but then moved more comfortable, propping himself up with an elbow. The survivor eyed him for a little while before she figured she could trust him.

Krissa felt him leer over in her direction, but continued to ignore him. There was silence as she finally pulled up his clothing and began to feel his bruised side. Cracked, perhaps, but not broken. Marshal hadn't done his worse. Pulling him to sit up once again, the stranger let out a groan of complaint but said nothing. So he finally taken the hint that she wanted him to shut his trap?

"Why are you up here?" asked the man. No, no he hadn't.

"Why are _you_?" Krissa shot back, keeping her green eyes glued to his wrists as she began to clean a nasty cluster of cuts. He seemed almost startled, flinching at the sound of her voice. Finally, her head came up and their eyes met. A smirk laced his lips.

"She speaks," he mused, then his expression became stale, realizing he wasn't going to easily get her to join him in his own entertainment. Losing his smile, he observed her as she crossed her legs and sat in front of him, long buck knife in hand. His brown eyes nervously shot between Krissa's weapon and then to her face. "No. I meant up here.. With _them_."

Krissa felt her belly harden, angry that he even questioned her for a second. She curled her lip and tilted her chin up in defiance. "This is my home. I live here."

"And you aren't.." Her head tilted slightly to the side, her raven brows lowering upon her face. The stranger seemed to hesitate to spit out the word lodged in his throat. The stranger's gaze darted over her. Maybe she looked out of place to him, although Krissa couldn't help but feel that the two looked just the same: her hair was a wild tangle of curls, her freckled cheeks smeared with mud and dirt, and her pants dirty from months of going unwashed. Her NASA shirt was tied for better use and exposed a slight peek at her skin beneath, her burgundy sweatshirt tied tightly around her belt and her hips. Her arms and legs were muscular and strong. To tie it all together, Krissa was barefoot. " _Sick_?"

Sick? She cocked a brow and curled her lip. "No," she responded simply. "I've never been sick, in fact. The flu never got to me." Realization seemed to wash over his battered features, something slowly dawning on him. Krissa shot Slate a partial glance, catching his tawny gaze hovering over the two before they both averted their gazes in adamant. Swallowing nervously, she gave him a once-over. Apprehensively, she then asked, "Have you?"

"No," revelled the other man. Krissa felt as if she had just been hit by a steamroller, that single word of confirmation enough to cause her own stubbornness to melt away, revealing a look of shock. The two humans gawked at one another. Her heart began to hammer between her ears- no? There were others like her? Other living, breathing humans aside from Nova? She wasn't the only one… "There are others like us! We have an entire group-" Krissa's eyes fell to the side and she turned her head away from him, hiding behind a wall of ebony tangles. He continued to speak, chatting at a mile a minute. "- we've made camp an hour's walk from here. We were heading for this little town on the other side of the mountain and had stopped because we were runnin' low on food."

"What made you come up here?" she asked, her head tilting up to look over at a few orangutans settled up in the trees by the entrance of camp. Sharp was among them, he and his brother on sentry duty. That meant his sister was out picking apricots. Her knife slowly dragged over the stone, leaving a long white line.

"Lookin' for fish, following the river," he answered.

"It's not smart.. The river draws animals, prey and predators alike," Krissa drawled, finally tilting her head up to face him. Despite her resentment for Slate's constant reminders, they certainly came in handy when she needed wisdom. "The waterfall is our fishing spot. There's a pool where we go to cool off in the summer.."

"How long _have_ you been with these monkeys?" the stranger grilled, his voice holding bewilderment.

"They're _apes_ ," Krissa snapped, jaw tightening. There was a beat as they both exchanged a look. Drawing back, she straightened her posture and sheathed her knife. Okay, he deserved an answer just as she did. "I don't know. For a few months, maybe." The conversation died down from there, dwindling to silence. Her chartreuse gaze hardened as it found Slate, sitting with his face becoming tacky from blood. The man across from her shifted and she stiffened, ready to take him down if he were attempting to make a move. His head turned to follow her survey of the dark grey chimp. "Man, he knows how to party, doesn't he?"

Krissa couldn't hold back the snort of amusement that built up in her nose. Turning her head, she looked over to see him simpering at her. So what if he made her laugh? "That's one way of saying it," she agreed bitterly. "Slate and his brother don't get along that well. You saw the worst of it.."

" _Slate_? They have names?" Oh, had he not known?

"Yeah, like you and I.."

He seemed entertained by this. He chuckled at the thought, earning an arch of her brow. "And what's your name? _Leaf_?"

Giggling, she shook her head and narrowed her eyes in confusion. "No, my name is Krissa," she replied, reaching up to tuck the hair back behind her ear. It felt good to talk to a reasonable human being like herself. Well, sort of. The stranger's brown eyes gleamed and he gave her a fond leer, smirking gently. Krissa couldn't believe that this was what she felt as she peered at his unshaven, bruised and puffy face. "Do you have one?"

"Well Krissa, I do in fact have a name," he replied, nodding softly. "People call me Nic. Now can you do somethin' about my eye, sweetheart? I like being able to see."

"Nic, as in Nicolas?" Krissa inquired, unaware of how his name brought a smile to her face. The young woman propped herself back up on her knees and began to examine his swelling eye. It certainly looked like it would need something cold to bring down the swelling, but she didn't think that the apes had some ice laying around. Instead, she began to wrack her brain for other sorts of compresses and herbs. Maybe Poppy would know? " _Well Nic_ ," she said, mocking his previous phrase. "I might need to talk to the others about plants that will bring down that nasty puffiness you've got there."

"As long as it don't smell, I'm down," he concurred, shrugging his broad shoulders.

"Trust me, I don't think I can find anything that smells worse than you," Krissa teased, giving his nose a flick. The other human let out an exclamation and quickly reached up, preparing to flick her in return. Ducking out of the way, she swiftly shot forward and gave him a shove. Krissa let out another laugh as he fell back, the sound carrying across the village square, oblivious to the sets of tawny and emerald turning their way. It felt good to laugh and spend time with her own kind for once. Nic was a refreshing glass of lemonade to her parched throat, and she welcomed every drop of his humor with relish.

This did not last long, unfortunately.

Suddenly, in a brutish flurry of fur, a bulky body manifested out of thin air and intervened with a hearty growl. Krissa was thrown to the ground, earning a soft cry of protest. She knew exactly who the culprit was as she gazed upon his hulking shoulders and long muscular limbs. "Slate- what are you-" she began, but her words stilled within her mouth and hung upon her tongue as the chimp whirled on her, his tawny eyes cutting right through her willowy frame. Swallowing hard, she met his gaze but said nothing, knowing that he was silently challenging her to speak against his actions. Perhaps she would have talk back to him any other day, but she was hardly given time as the ape had finished retying their captive's hands and then whirled around once more, snatching her arm up in his long fingers. Krissa hissed as she was being lead away from Nic, reluctantly following as the dark grey chimp sunk to all fours, stalking forward and using his weapon to help himself walk. shooting him a look of apology over her shoulder as soon as she was released from Slate's grip. Why was she even keeping pace with him? He had no right to decide where she was to go. She felt her shoulders tense and she stilled in her tracks, eyeing the females that leered over in her direction, having noticed the escapade between her, Slate and Nic and almost grinning in a cheeky manner. Her lip curled and their heads slowly turned, one by one. He had no right to embarrass her as if she were a child!

Slate had noticed that she had stopped and was not turning her body in Nic's direction, and let out a pant-bark of frustration. The male quickly cut her off, rising to all fours and coming face-to-face with Krissa. He was inches away, his hot breath hissing across her cheeks, yet she held strong, giving him a look of disgust that read, " _really_?" Okay, maybe he did have that power over her. The male returned to his typical apeish posture and Krissa finally wheeled around, stalking off in the direction of their shared hut. Glancing over her shoulder one last time, she just caught a glimpse of Slate as he bristled and stared over at the other human, practically oozing testosterone as he asserted dominance.

"Males.." she grumbled under her breath before quickening her pace.

* * *

' **What has gotten into you**?' Krissa finally snapped, rounding on the adult male with her chartreuse eyes wide as saucers. Her brows were heavy and her freckled cheeks flushed from anger. She had had enough of his bullshit- he was getting on her nerves. She looked upon him, settled by the entrance upon his haunches, his head turned slightly in her direction, peering at her form the corner of his opticals. Without an answer, she simply continued to tear into him. Somehow, his silence pissed her off further. She had worried about him to a point where she had cried for a good five minutes after the twins' scuffle, only to be left alone as he simply stared off after his limping brother as he leaned into his companion. He had not signed nor spoken a word to her since the day before. ' **First you nearly kill your brother, then you act exactly as he does**!'

Edging closer, she noticed how his eyes averted almost in shame- if she had to guess, that was. Instead of shutting up, she began to vocalize her opinion, so he wouldn't be ignoring her. Krissa looked him over, aching to break that unspoken boundary between the two and examine his blood-smeared face and get a good look at that wrist he was favoring. Was that even his spear? "You scared me.. You scared _everybody_ ," she spoke, articulating each word with dynamism. "I woke up this morning thinking things might be different, but the first time I even get a chance to see you, you stalk right past me. I felt as though I were just… invisible. As if I were non-existent to you."

When she was met with more reticence, her seething veins fizzled out, defeated. Slumping down next to Slate, she curled her legs beneath her and sat on them, slouching so she could try and meet his eyes. His head turned and he let his eyes fall once again, avoiding her altogether rather than peering at her partially. Krissa felt her jaw set. "You just nearly beat Pine to death… don't you feel anything?" His eyes rose slowly and stared out toward the village that peeped through the archway. Her words hung in the air like a clump of looming vultures, circling and circling..

"Pine lied," Slate rasped, husky voice grating between her ears. Krissa slowly came to sit upon her behind, allowing her legs to curl inward just as they had done moments ago while visiting with Nic.

"He.. lied?" she echoed, drawling on the words in confusion. "Well.. I hate to break it to you, but your brother isn't exactly the kind to tell the truth."

If Slate's head had turned any faster, the bones in his neck would have snapped and popped. The look in his eyes caused something to stir in her throat, as if she needed to cry. The skin upon his face was purplish, his nostrils caked in blood and his lip slightly split in one place. One of his apeish brows held a gash, and his left eye was slightly puffy. His endurance and bounce-back completely left her aghast. ' **He lied**!' Slate repeated, his hands holding great force. ' **He lied about father, about mother- he kept secrets from Poppy, from me** -'

Father? Mother? _Wait_ \- hadn't it been established that Hail and Ring were their parents? Well, adoptive, sure, but… if Pine had lied about the two chimpanzees, just how big had this lie been? "Slate, I... I don't know what you're talking about," she murmured softly, her lashes fluttering in puzzlement. Reaching out to touch his arm, she attempted to make sense of it. "Please, I want to know.."

Clearly frustrated, Slate waved a hand of dismissal over in her direction and turned his head away, snarling under his breath. His shoulder tilted inward and he held himself firm, refusing to look at her once more. The ravenette flinched, the breath stilling in her throat for a moment before her fingers finally met the thick wiry fur growing upon his ulna. "Please…" she urged, her voice silky with milk and honey. Shuffling her body closer, Krissa gently coaxed him closer by giving his arm a small and gradual pull. Slate's entire body stiffened and his hair began to rise visibly in the late afternoon light. He was so stubborn… Sighing softly, she allowed her head to fall momentarily. She then straightened, trying a different approach. "Well at least let me have a look at your face.."

There was a tense lull before the simian unwound his tightened joints and turned his massive head toward her. His face was now closer, revealing more cuts upon his dark skin. Krissa frowned. Thankfully having grabbed her supplies before she had been so rudely forced to head home, she removed the cotton balls from her little medicine knapsack. She clicked her tongue and shook her head at the wounds, straightening up onto her knees and hovering over him. The ape drew back with a small whine of complaint, shrinking against the alcohol-soaked wipe and trying to get away from it's burning sensation. Eventually though, as she was looking down into his beautiful liquid jasper and cognac irises, he features relaxed to that of mild discontent and he allowed her to do her worst. It didn't take her long to finish up and then begin cleaning the matted patches of blood and dirt, making sure he was as good as new (or as good as new as an ape could get). Soon she returned to his primitive face and gently touched the gash upon his brow. Something stirred behind his gaze, flickering as thoughts ran rampant through his mind with no control or restriction. Before Krissa could remove her hand from his brow, she mindlessly allowed her fingers to glide up through his dark coat and continued to explore for any more wounds that she could not see. The gesture seemed to cause those clicking and whirring gears to stop, the male's breath whistling and hissing up into his nose as it hitched within his chest.

Krissa caught this tiny little gasp and stilled, peering down at him. His features crumbled, his steely facade gone. It was like looking upon the face of a broken child. Her lips parted and she went to speak about it, asking him why he suddenly seemed so crestfallen, but her words became entangled within her larynx. Slate unexpectantly ducked his head and curled his body into her's, his spear clamoring to the ground beside them with a wooden thunk. His head was warm pressed against her breasts and diaphragm, frame too large for her to wrap her arms around, yet she did so anyway, snaking her hand sup to his sides and bringing them to just clasp the fur upon his lower back. Krissa let out a soft laugh as he pushed her back, letting out an almost playful bray. With prying fingers, she began to gently tickle his sides, earning a hoot that startled her. The male then began to pant, chuckle, which indicated that he wasn't about to tear into her.

Slate then pulled away, the pair's mirth eventually dying down. They relaxed and sighed, both looking upon one another with a fond look. Unfortunately, it took the chimp's face only a few seconds to finally fall again, eventually reflecting an air of apologetic anguish. Krissa exhaled and shook her head, gazing in return and offering a soft and tender smile. There was an unspoken agreement between the two. She forgave him, it wasn't his fault. Not completely, at least…

Silently, Slate moved over and picked up the weapon she had been wondering about, and laid it upon her lap. Rolling it over, he began to show her all the symbols and the notches upon its shaft. After a moment, she glanced up at him and their eyes met once more. ' **Is this your's**?' she asked.

The weapon raised and rested blade pointed to the ceiling. The chimp's eyes followed it's point, then gracefully washed over's it's stem. His head eventually bobbed. "Yes…" he replied softly. Slowly, his gaze turned back to Krissa. ' **My father's… Maurice gave it to me**.'

Maurice? "So, Hail's then?" she assumed, but was soon answered with a shake of his cranium.

" _Koba's_."

She had heard that name before. Her throat became thick. _**Koba**_ … only in faint whisperings around the hearths, or in stories told to white-tails- she knew bits and pieces about this unfathomably cruel ape, and could only draw darkness from the name, thus why a cold drop of fear ran down her spine. Her lips parted and she ended up staring at him, speechless. Koba had many title, to her own recollection: The human killer, the ruthless warrior, the bloodthirsty maniac, the oppressor of apes and man alike. "Koba… is your _father_?" she repeated, trying to make sense of it.

Slate nodded and then raised his hands to sign and gesture.

They sat together like that, even as Poppy entered and came to rest for the night, telling Koba's story and explaining how Mist, Button, Hail, Salt and Ring all played a part. They stayed up all night, even discussing Pine's secretive behavior, and the entire time Krissa simply allowed him to speak, telling her his story.

And by morning they were asleep together, in the same nest.

It was peaceful.

* * *

 **Author's Note :** _Heya pals, I'm sorry for not leaving an author's note in the last chapter. I have been pretty busy with working now, so like I've said before, progress may be slow, more or less._

 _ **We've finally hit 1,000 views!?** **What?** I was screaming the day I saw this, and I'm pretty sure my entire family thought I was going to die. I'm surprised that they didn't break out the newspaper and hit me over the head a few times for being too loud. _

_Honestly, I'm **blown away** by how many people have been supporting this story and following the characters on this journey that is _**The Simian Forest** _._

 _If you haven't already, a prequel is in the works called_ **Human Work** _(it can be found on my profile too). You can also check me out on Wattpad if you'd like (there are gifs and loads of other cool things there)._

 ** _Don't forget to leave a review and let me know what you think of each chapter- it really keeps me going! Also, if you wanna hear more about the story and follow Krissa and Slate, feel free to drop a favorite/follow._**

 ** _Love you guys so much xxx_**

Thank you so so much, and I'll see you guys in the next chapter!


	15. The Mirror (Chapter XIV)

The human village was small and spaced out, their homes made of stone or brick, their roofs unkempt and missing shingles. Power lines streaked across the sky above, the utility poles making up for the lack of trees. Slate felt uncomfortable, although had been inside of a human city before. This one was insignificant compared to the one that Koba had overtaken. The memories were something he did not wish to recall, especially with the recent events. It was early morning and the outcross had just finished speaking with Cornelius about his behavior perhaps an hour or so ago. Maurice was an ally he was thankful for in these situations, for sometimes the prince could become a bit... hot-headed when it came to serious discussions. He had acted out of line and just about killed his brother, which would have evidently broken their rule of " _ape not kill ape_." He had entered rather nervous and left ruffled and irritated by his prince's nasty choice of words. _Idiot, maniac, murder._

Those words had stung him deeply.

Slate weaved his way through the littered streets, passing over old rain-beaten newspapers and scattered autumn leaves. The stale scent of gasoline filled his nose as he began to explore the closest vehicle. It was a yellow convertible, it's top down and it's doors either dented in or the windows damaged; it's paint was scratched and rust was beginning to cluster around the rims of the wheels. Titling his head, he peered in through the gap between the window and the door, mild curiosity drawn toward a torn up wallet and a partial picture of a happy family, it's color beginning to fade from years of weathering. A young child was held upside down by his father, the man holding a rather expressive face of enthusiasm. Slate frowned. Humans were such strange creatures at times that he couldn't quite wrap his head around them. _Apes aren't any different_ , remarked an indignant tiny voice.

The ape finally moved away, beginning to open the creaky-hinged door and prod at the shredded leather seats. Grunting under his breath, he furrowed his brow and caught a strip by one end, tugging out of mild perplexion. It was such an odd material; similar to that of deer hide, yet far from. It was too smooth and supple... and delicate. In a flurry of cushion stuffing and tan, Slate violently tugged up, earning a pleasing yet guttural tearing sound. Elated for but a moment, he proceeded until he had a fistful, and then tossed it into the air, allowing the wind to carry them to the tarmac just a few feet away. Slate grew bored with exploring the vehicle, eyeing the exposed springs with little concern, and dropped back to all fours, leaning out the driver's side by one extended arm. The simian sniffed the air and then satisfied an itch on his breast before finally slipping from the car's interior. It wasn't until he caught sight of something within one of it's reflective side mirrors that he paused, hold it within his sights. Just over his fuzzy shoulder, he could make out Krissa's slender frame as she held the human male's backpack up to her chest, trying to help him stuff a few pieces of clothing inside. The human's other hand held a package of water bottles- by the looks of the plastic encasing, it had already been torn open.

In the midst of tugging it open further, he had caught her by surprise and the young woman stumbled forward a few steps, which caused him to still her with a reassuring hand and to look down into her heart-shaped face. Slate felt his belly tighten and a frown paint his apeish features, some unknown feeling creeping up his spine. He couldn't quite understand what exactly caused his organs to burn, his fur to rise and his jaw to tense, but the inky male didn't ponder upon it for too long. All Slate could feel was an intense ire, both toward human and toward himself. Eyes drifting, he finally came face to face with who he was- quite literally. The primate was shocked to find his own reflection staring him back in the face; he held two primitive tawny eyes that shown tangerine and liquid amber in the right light, a strong jaw and dark skinned face, his coat thick and nearly jet black. Narrowing his eyes, he brought a stray hand to his pate and gently felt the darker patchy skin up near his brow and eyelids, as well as along his muzzle. That's when it hit him- how similar to Koba he looked, in facial structure and in the way he held himself. Without his father's slightly twisted spine, all that was left was a similar arrogance and a hollow shell.

A hand that brushed his back startled him and he let out a hoot of fright, whirling to face his spectator. His teeth bared and his lips peeled back in anxiousness, but Slate was quick to soon hide it as soon as he realized that it was only Krissa. She stood slightly crouched in order to settle at his level, her chartreuse eyes exploring his face with worry. "Slate?" she questioned softly. "You okay? You've been staring at that thing for a while."

A pang of nausea washed over him momentarily. The ape found that " _that thing_ " was an appropriate term for just exactly what he had been looking at. Glancing over her shoulder for a fleeting moment, he caught sight of the human male taking a gander in his direction, to which he reacted with a twitch of his nose. The male relaxed, shoulders nearly drooping, and slipped away from her. Slate could feel her eyes burning holes into his back, yet ignored this. They had to get themselves moving, or else he was sure that they would be in deep dung. After Poppy had broken the news to him immediately after his discussion with his prince, he had just about had a hemorrhage. Krissa had been going to a _human village_ with the _human male_? Alone? _Willingly_? It had seemed rather fishy to him, so he had approached her about it - well, more like he had demanded that she tell him who, what, when and where, but that was beside the point. Slate shot a slant over his shoulder, signing vaguely along with his words. "Cornelius said.. not long," he scoffed. "Need to move quicker."

"I know, but there are lots of things here! It's as if everybody just up and vanished... and there are absolutely no bodies, so they had to have headed for the border or something," Krissa gushed. She was clearly excited. Slate hated it. Her dimples flashed as she beamed over at the houses to their left, that dazzling smile of hers forcing him to avert his eyes. They began to turn a corner, Slate wandering along fence-lines and grassy front lawns. The damp smell of earth filled his nose, which he found oddly relaxing. The bitter scent of the city really set Slate at unease, especially with the absence of foliage and leaf-litter beneath his hands and feet. The forest was his home, and here, in the city, he felt out of place.

A new voice came into play. "Why not in there?" the human male suggested, jerking his sharp nose toward one of the buildings.

Glancing at Krissa, Slate hovered in place, the trio coming to a standstill. They had a good two hours of travel ahead of them, so why were they stalling? Slate shot a peek at the road ahead, then returned his attention to the ravenette. Her dainty finger pointed out a rather lavish looking house, overgrown with ivy upon it's battered white exterior. "Are you sure it won't fall down on top of us?" she asked. "I mean, look at the roof Nic." Slate's lips curled inward and flattened together. Did they _have_ to? She was correct in thinking that the building looked rickety, but Slate knew nothing of architecture, so he felt useless at this point. Of course, he could go and check out how it was holding up...

"I could climb up or somethin'-"

"I don't think you could climb that fast, and besides, it won't hold you. We need you alive, and that's how you'll stay." Beat. Nic was now silent, thankfully. The eavesdropping ape knew what was coming as soon as Krissa and Slate's eyes simultaneously met from across the way.

"Slate?" Krissa chimed. The primate tilted his head, blinking. ' **Not a job for humans. Can you** -' He rolled his eyes and let out a croak of agreement, earning a soft chuckle from her. Slate couldn't fight the slight smile twitch at his lips. Great minds thought alike. He was glad that he could manage at least a tiny little bubble of laughter from her today. Upon swift fours, Slate ambled across the lawn, litter crunching beneath his feet. Eventually he came to examine the gutter pipe that ran earthward from the eavestrough above, wondering if he would be able to manage using the aluminum piece to hoist himself up. Giving it a tug, he found that it held well, although Slate still knew it would be ridiculously stupid of him to trust a human contraption to hold his weight. Instead he rounded the side of the house, located the closest tree, and quickly began to climb. It took him less than a minute to find the nearest branch, his eyes moving quickly across the bows and limbs of the poplar. Dry yellow leaves still hung upon barren twigs for dear life, although they surely wouldn't last much longer with how the wind had been lately. They rattled as the bonobo-cross balanced himself and tight-roped out across the tree's spongy bark with ease, careful so as not to break any off and lose his footing on the slippery surface.

Once in position, the ape scoured the roof for a landing point. No, he wouldn't simply plunge down on top of the shingles- he would set himself down carefully. Lowering Koba's spear to the roof with great precision, he swung himself down and hung by his hands, taking the time to decide whether or not he could make the distance without plunging straight down. Finally, upon a whim, he figured he had nothing to close and released the branch above him from his left hand, dangling now by his right. Slate's body unfurled itself and he stretched before finding that his feet brushed the rough surface. The rest was performed in one fluid motion, plopping down without much trouble. Slate tilted his head up and eyed the two figures that approached from the street, Krissa in the lead.

"All good?" she shouted up to him as he began to wander along the rough surface of the roof. There were puddles in some places and a hole at the nearest side, but so long as they didn't take to the attic, everything should remain fine. Slate let out a pant-chuff of confirmation, and, feeling savvy and confident, he leapt from the roof and landed with a heavy thud just a few inches behind the human male (much to his luck). A flare of pride stoked within his belly as Nic yelped in surprise, and stumbled forward. "H-Hey man-" he seemed to try and threaten, but his trembling voice gave away his own anxiety. Slate let out a snort of amusement, Krissa joining him in his mirth.

"Good job," she praised, causing the dark primate's head to careen back in order to look up at her. Her eyes were glinting mischievously, her one eyebrow cocked and a smirk playing her features. ' **Nearly made him piss himself**.'

Her remark made him squeeze his eyes shut and the corners of his maw to curl up as his jaws parted. Slate bobbed his head and offered a series of breathy pants, which soon burst into slight hoots of laughter as Nic looked between the two of them in confusion. Krissa brought a hand to her mouth, amused by the look on his dumb face. His boston accent was thick and nasally, which only made it funnier for the outcross. "What- uh- what did you jus' say to him?"

"Oh, I just thanked him for checking the roof," she excused. Slate nodded, playing along with the little joke as best he could. Still perplexed, the human's eyes flitted and bounced amongst them for a moment before they finally rested upon the primate. It was all going straight over his head, even despite the fact that he was trying his hardest to figure out what they were talking about. Their hand movements were clearly foreign to him.

' **Too bad he doesn't understand** ,' he signed brashly, flashing a toothy grin up at her. ' **Human male has floss between ears, might need a bath too. Reminds me of an old boar.** ' The young woman obviously held in her laughter this time, although he could make out that she was trying hard to remain discrete.

' **All human males do** ,' Krissa agreed.

"Uh, _guys_?" Nic grasped. He then looked to the ravenette for guidance. "Can you at least translate for me?"

Brushing by her, the male allowed his shoulder to tenderly press into the side of her leg, implying that Krissa follow his lead. The warmth had returned to his chest and he no longer felt as insecure as before. It had been replaced by the sound of her laughter. "He was just telling me that you remind him of someone," excused Krissa, covering up for his insults. Slate smiled as he wandered into the musty human nest, eyes flitting around the cobwebs and the droplets of water that fell from the moldy ceiling. By the looks of it, the first floor had given out from rain rot, and now was spilling its contents onto the next one above. Using his staff-like weapon to balance himself, he rose and met Krissa's height as she fell into step, the two of them peering up at the growing dark patch. "I guess we're staying down here for now..." she whispered softly.

Slate tilted himself to look at her, their eyes locking together for a moment as she offered a simper. With a nod and a croak, he allowed her to lead the way around the slippery hardwood floors and into a few rooms ahead of them. Pushing the door open, revealing an almost untouched dusty bedroom, fully equipped with a dresser and even a few paintings. A draft wafted in from one of the windows, the stirring particles from inside the nest tickling his nostrils. The primate sneezed suddenly, jolting back and shaking his head, causing the ravenette to pause and glance back at him. Giving her a few hoots of reassurance and a pleasant placid look, she nodded and continued on with her scavenging. Slate, in the meantime, wandered along the creaky floor boards to another room, this one being the bathroom. From inside scrambled a scrawny creature- a housecat, screaming in alarm as it tore down the hall toward the open door. Nic bolted out of it's way, the commotion causing Slate to bark after it, his resounding calls dying out and rumbling in his throat as soon as it was out of sight. Silence filled the hall as the primate and the man exchanged a look.

"What was that?!" called Krissa from behind a now closed door. Confused as to why there was now a barrier, Slate leaned down and peered through the slanted light bleeding out from beneath the door.

"A cat!" Nic yelled back. Glancing over his shoulder, the male seemed to be considering something, although Slate couldn't quite make out what exactly he was thinking. Finally, he piped up again. "I'm gonna go check it out, see where it went.."

"Alright, just stay inside. We'll find you if you don't!" As the chimp watched him exit out the front, he doubted that the human would do as he was told. All Slate could think was ' _good riddance_ '. The male was more focused on the closed door right now. Letting out a bray of concern, he reached for the handle and turned it, the door now cracking open slightly. "S-Slate- _wait_!" Krissa suddenly squeaked. Just before he could push his way inside, the door was quickly shut, evidently pinch his fingers against it's frame. With a furious explosion of sound, he threw the door open and sent the woman behind it stumbling back; the ape was now standing in the doorway and shoving his throbbing fingers and palm in her direction accusingly. His vigorous pant-barks filled the small space fairly quickly, but soon died within his throat, his eyes of honey and amber widening as he realized that he had made a mistake by barging in. Krissa stood there, holding her long striped shirt up to her breasts in a desperate attempt to cover herself, the material just coming to cover her thighs- the rest of her clothes were in a heap on the ground. The primate had only caught sight of the scene before she stepped forward and quickly pushed the door shut again. Slate leaned against it in order to hear, rather flustered by the situation. "I'm okay, I'm just getting dressed..." Her tone was reassuring, as if trying to calm him. "Can you wait? Please... I'm sorry about your hand, but I-" Krissa cleared her throat, her voice seeming to waver. "I need privacy."

Slate ducked his head and stared at the carpet, as if still in her presence. His paunch felt as though it were full of boiling water and his head swam as he kept replaying the sight of her over and over again. What had just happened? "I'm ..sorry," he apologized, voice hoarse in his throat. Finally, his eyes floated up, finding Nic blinking at him with the drenched cat in his arms. Curling his lip, he began to feel that old spark of irritation return.

"Its okay, I-I should have said something," Krissa called back again.

The primate hovered and then finally knuckled away from the door, returning to the foyer and plodding toward the exit. Before he could leave however, Nic broke his confused silence and spoke. His words were like a kick in the gut, and almost made him feel the need to jump on the freak and bash his brains in. "Did you walk in on her or somethin'?"

"Was an accident," he advocated dryly, shrugging his question off.

The human male let out a huff of amusement. "Damn man, bad timing or somethin'?"

 _"Or somethin'?"_ seemed to be common for him. It was getting on his nerves. He fell silent again, resting back upon his haunches and listening to the ginger tabby's labored purrs. The primate peered at the skinny feline, seeing how it's whiskers twitched as it rested within his arms, relishing in Nic's warmth. The human's grimy fingers came to scratch underneath it's chin. Nic attempted to make conversation, although Slate unfortunately didn't quite feel comfortable, nor could he relate. "Women: they're always shoppin' for things... and they take forever!"

Silence fell as he awkwardly met his gaze, giving him a hard look that told him to stop talking. Slate didn't need another headache like the one that Cornelius had given him. The ape remained upon his haunches for a little while longer before he rose and began to wander in the other direction, examining the old picture frames on the walls and the dust and cobwebs on them. The crunching of leaves and old carpet came to his attention behind him, signifying that Nic had followed him. Great. The primate moved away and allowed him to pick up one of the frames from the walls, blowing off some of the dust and wiping the rest away with the palm of his hand.

"What a shame. Guy had a nice wife too," he remarked sullenly, hand stuffed in one pocket, the other holding the item. He solemnly looked upon it a moment longer before he returned it to it's hook. Slate turned himself away before Nic could meet his eyes. The two sauntered along to the kitchen, the nosy human following at a reasonable yet nonetheless unwelcome distance. "What 'bout you?" he pried. Slate just about stiffened. What was he asking him _now_? "You gotta wife n' kids?"

Slate humored him and grunted, shaking his head, rising up onto his hind legs to open a cabinet. The hinges creaked, revealing a few cans of pasta sauce and a package of noodles. There wasn't much there to recover for them, just a bit of old expired food, even up on the top shelf. Hopping down from the counter, he began to explore the substances in the cupboard beneath the sink. They all smelled sharp and toxic, which caused him to steer clear of getting anything on his hands. Ring had always taught him that. They rummaged around for a little while - thankfully in silence this time - before they eventually returned to the foyer. That's when the human male spoke again, clearing his throat. "What about you n' Krissa? Are you-" Nic began, then rubbed his nose with an awkward scratch of his thumb, eyes flitting around as if nervous. "I mean, this is gonna sound weird, but.." Slate almost could predict what he was going to say, but nonetheless stopped himself and turned to give him a once-over, lip slightly curled. He finally spat it out. "- are you two a thing or somethin'? Like, are you two _mates_ or whatever the shit your kind does?"

A _thing_? Mates? _Him_ court _her_? An ape and a human? Slate's gaze fell from Nic's expectant face and drifted over his shoulder in the direction the ravenette was still browsing. "No," he answered, his voice low and close to catching in his throat. The idea was pure lunacy; it was wrong on so many goddamn levels.

"Oh good!" Nic laughed, smiling from where he stood behind him. He slowly plodded over to a decorative chest and eased himself down on top. "Thought somethin' was up at first, you bein' all macho around her and draggin' her around like she's yours..." The rest of that sentence didn't sit well in his gut, but he held his tongue. There was a pause as he watched the door, waiting impatiently. This human didn't know how to take a hint and shut his gob. Slate had too many ideas in his head, and they were all rolling around like marbles in a glass jar.

"So, listen..." the human began carefully. The primate's entire body stiffened, the once cheerful disposition the human had held now absent from his words, leaving them sounding lifeless and stingy on the his thick tongue. "...when I leave, I was thinkin' of asking Krissa to come with me." Slate's neck snapped around so quick that his head nearly shot off it's joint. They stared at each other. He continued, "Yeah, I know.. I know what you're thinkin', but you've mentioned before, our kind don't belong with yours-"

"Meant you," Slate snarled, standing to his full height, his grip tightening upon the shaft of Koba's weapon. His father's spear practically begged him to open up Nic's throat and let his blood stain the wood and carpet below their feet. It would certainly solve the problem. " _You_ don't belong, Krissa does.." The ape's coat was slowly bristling and his teeth bared, looking down at him from where he loomed close. "Once the time comes for you to ..leave..." Slate stooped down, getting in his face. Voice guttural, he dropped his friendly act and told the human how it was. "You go.. _Alone_. Alone or _dead_."

Nic, for once, visibly twinged. His eyes narrowed and for a moment, Slate thought he could see a move of retaliation beginning to bubble to the surface... but then the door down the hall finally came to swing open. Krissa stepped into the open, her slender frame dressed in a new pair of jeans, her trunk adorning a thick auburn knit sweater, a black jacket covering up her once scantily clothed limbs. Thick hiking socks bunched up over the ankles, exposed just inches above the lip of her lace-ups. She looked more appropriate for the weather now, her backpack appearing to be a bit heavier than when he had left. She didn't need much, this girl, for she had the warmth of others to keep her live. Nic peered over at her just the same, and Slate moved away from him as soon as her hazel-jade eyes found them. "Oh, you kept an eye on him... good," she remarked teasingly, smiling gently over at the primate.

Slate swallowed and nodded, removing his gaze from her frame, trying to smother the memory of her bare legs and the way her caramel skin had glowed in the day's late light. He could feel how Nic buried his daggers into his spine, watching him saunter toward the exit. He was satisfied.

It was on.

* * *

The next few days were long and excruciatingly muggy for autumn. Slate had to tug burrs out from his tangled, dense coat on multiple occasions, seeing as hunting didn't quite help keep himself away from such plants. It was that time of year where they were detaching and sticking to literally _anything_ they could latch onto, so even Krissa had to comb over her wardrobe a few times. The new clothing had kept the ravenette warm, which pleased Slate, seeing as he had caught her settled in the undergrowth, shivering in those thin pieces of material, even when she wore layers. After the problem with his brother, he had returned to normal duties only to find that they had been doubled, sometimes not even getting a chance to see Krissa until the end of the day, when she would return to their family hut. It wasn't as if this was a problem, but- okay, it was _a bit_ of a problem. Today was thankfully the day he had gotten a chance to rest, for the scouting patrol was delayed.

They were together, sitting off near the dogwood tree, shielding them from the sun. The two humans spoke to each other in words Slate couldn't quite make out from where he sat. His tawny eyes bore holes in the back of Nic's head, then Krissa's, trying to possibly eavesdrop on their conversation, but this was to no avail. Poppy shifted from where she was perched beside him, munching away on sunflower seeds. One of her hands brushed his arm, trying to get his attention. At first he did not flinch, but then he eventually tilted his head in her direction, giving her a questioning look. ' **Mother and I will be going out to the waterfall later. We're going to see if we can find fish** ,' signed Poppy, her hands moving leisurely. The primates were still adjusting to the fact that they now had a physical mother, although it seemed as though the doors they were opening could lead to something promising. Mist was... cautious now. Lake hadn't spoken to Slate nor Poppy since the events, and neither of the siblings had actually really sat down and discussed their biological father. The charcoal brute was comfortable with this though, seeing as he still hadn't completely come to terms at this point. ' **Won't be back until dinner**.'

Slate's head bobbed and he grunted, returning his gaze to Krissa and Nic. The human male had gone unbound for some time, and since then all the warriors in the ape colony had been watching him like vultures circling their prey- him especially. The primate wasn't completely sure what the human male was playing at. The way those eyes of his had pinched together and how he had curled his lip still replayed each time Slate saw him sitting next to Krissa. He couldn't quite tell whether he were simply exploiting the ravenette or if he were genuinely being friendly. He was certainly an excellent actor, that was for certain. "She.. seems to like him," Poppy pointed out, breaking him from his thoughts. The primate shut his eyes, his nose involuntarily wrinkling. "The way you look at them.." The simian turned his head to give his sister a look of warning, yet she continued, undeterred. ' **Makes me think you're maybe jealous**.' Mischief sparkled in those ashen eyes of hers, yet he proceeded to give her an unimpressed pant-chuff. Reaching out, he gave her a jab, earning a bray from his younger sibling.

' **Shut up** ,' he signed, unable to come up with anything better.

' **Never** ,' she shot back, smirking devilishly. His foolish sister rose up and gave him a shove, just as he had, earning a flash of Slate's sharp teeth. Moving away slightly, the two returned they attention to the pair in question. There was a moment of silence, a cuckoo's call echoing out of the woods below their mountain side village. Slate reached up and scratched one of his burning ears, sinking deeper into a sense of wonder. The wind ruffled their coats, Poppy moving closer in order to speak more secretively. Feeling one of her long limbs press indefinitely into his now, he reluctantly turned his head once more. Her expression had become rather grave and nervous now, which caused him a bit of concern. His nose twitched, septum tugging slightly. ' **You think she'll leave**?'

No. _Yes_.

She wouldn't. _She likes him enough._

The colony was her family- it was where she would stay. She had promised. _Humans lie._

The single thought that Nic wasn't enough for her kept repeating itself in a continuous loop in the back of his mind. _They belong with their own kind._ Slate's throat trembled and he leaned into his sister's touch, seemingly distressed (although he would never admit to it). His amber gaze was pinched and apprehensive, ever nerve in his body screaming with anxiety. Not only had he noticed, but others had as well. Krissa was certainly taking an interest in the male- it was obvious by how she acted and treated him. He couldn't help but feel that, in his gut, he was angry at her. Slate was angry because of how easily she trusted, how naive she could be, as well as how childish and set in her ways she was. If he were to approach her, she would surely snap at him for assuming Nic to be an enemy. Well, what else was he supposed to think? After what their kind had done to the apes for centuries? Slate felt his teeth grit inside of his maw. ' **Who knows** ,' replied Slate, taking note of how Poppy wilted next to her. ' **She's a human, just as he is. Maybe she belongs with them instead**...'

' **You need to have more faith** ,' Poppy sighed. She then parted her lips and delivered a short sentence, her soft honeyed vocals wispy and tender. Slate shot his sibling a side-glance. "Not ape, but... still family." Her melancholy words tugged at his heart. Reaching over, he nudged his sister's chin with a curled index finger.

"You'll.. miss her?" Slate consoled softly. His amber eyes held concern for his solemn little Poppy.

"Of course," his sister disclosed, her brows lowering. Her stubborn streak bled through. ' **She is like a sister to me, to you... she has fed and fought for our colony. I don't think we can ever just let her go that easy**.'

Slate felt guilt begin to curl within his abdomen and settled back upon his haunches once more. He didn't exactly know how to respond to Poppy's statement- mostly because she was speaking nothing but the truth. Unlike Nic, she had been easy to warm up to for the other apes, including their prince, for she was approachable and strong. Krissa held qualities of a noble female, and if she had been of their species, she would have been eyed like candy by the males and courted within her first month of heat. The idea caused Slate's throat to lock up and a powerful wave of possessiveness to overwhelm him, filling chest with an inexplicable ire. The sound of laughter brought his head up and his eyes latched onto Nic. The pair had risen to their feet and were beginning to make their way toward the beaten path that lead to the further parts of the village, which drove Slate to join them. Excusing himself, he caressed the side of his sister's cheek and then took his leave, quickly collecting himself and stalking over on his hind legs.

Once within distance, he let out a bray, which quickly caught Krissa's attention. Her head turned, her curls falling within her eyes momentarily. She then smiled and Slate felt the strange, indescribably feeling in the pit of his stomach. "Slate, you coming with?"the ravenette called back, coming to pause next to the taller human. He didn't even wait for her to finish her sentence: the male caught up and fell into step with the young woman. "I'm going to introduce Nic to the young ones!" The white-tails? He wondered how they would react. At first he frowned and gave her a calculating look, but then she offered a guilty grin and shrugged those slender shoulders of his. "It will be a good learning experience for them..."

"What am I gonna do, eat them?" Nic piped up, although his usual humor was dry and callous.

Slate shot him a vile glance, but Krissa soon cut in. "Just try to get along for a bit, will you two?" It was clear by the way she spoke that she wasn't too fond of their behavior. There was a reluctant reticence, but then the two competing males sighed simultaneously. Dropping to all fours, he lead the way toward the nursery and play area. It was a small meadow, not far from the planting grove, a massive ancient redwood laying splayed out across a bed of ferns and thick moss. Slate brought his head up as soon as he spotted a flash of alabaster, the juveniles and mothers all reacting with surprise as Nic trailed behind the two of them. They were weary, glancing at Krissa and Slate, and then toward the stranger. The mothers glanced among one another, wondering if they should say something or not, but then one of the more bold toddlers ventured over. Nic came to a stop and cautiously watched the youngster edge closer and closer to him, until he finally reached out and took hold of one of his shoelaces.

"That's Cinder. She's really curious..." Krissa explained, stepping over. Cinder's tiny pale face turned up toward her new friend, lips pursed and her eyes large with wonder. She tugged again and then eventually climbed up on top of the man's steel-toed boot. Eventually the others followed in suit, all ambling up his legs and swinging from branches over onto his back. Nic had soon loosened up, letting them rummage through his long hair, poking and prodding at him. Their weight soon became too much, and the human let out a laugh as he sank to the ground, in a bundle of human clothes and fur. They were certainly no longer afraid of boundaries. Slate, watching from a distance, sat alone. His amber eyes never left the male, settled in the ferns while he spoke softly to the young kids. Some of them only cocked their heads, but others - the older ones- actually understood. The grass beside him stirred and he turned his head to find Krissa easing herself down next to him. Her sweet aroma enveloped him, which relaxed his tensed joints.

"I'm surprised by how quickly they took to him..." Krissa remarked, bringing her knees to her chest. Her jeans had grass stains and were moist at the knees from where she had knelt in the damp earth just earlier. The breeze blew a few of her curls from her brow, the rest tied up on top of her head in a messy bun. Those hazel-jade eyes of hers were full of adoration as she watched Nic closely. Slate studied how the sun danced across her freckled caramel cheeks, the way it dappled and waltzed so lazily.. Poppy was correct, she did belong here. Her heart-shaped face finally angled toward him. "I think he's really starting to relax around you guys too."

There was a moment of hushed silence, filled only by the fond giggles from the white-tails. Kris smiled and Slate simply looked upon her with an unreadable expression. Countless thoughts began to roll through his head like approaching storm clouds. There was a squeak of protest from the little ones and their heads suddenly turned, finding that Nic had risen up on his hind legs and was beginning to spin around, which eventually caused the juveniles to bray in elation, the adult male laughing deep in his belly as he did so. Kris ran a hand through her raven curl, her hair bounced and ruffled in the wind, stirred in their messy glory, and Slate instinctively shuffled closer. At first she glanced at him, probably wondering why he was initiating body contact, but once she had figured out what exactly he was doing, she tilted her spine toward him and remained still. His fingers began to comb through her locks, grooming her in the peaceful silence, feeling her warmth resonating up near his chest as he sat so close that they brushed one another. He had never groomed a human before- in fact, he rarely even groomed anybody else aside from his sister and Hail. It didn't help that the thick primitive coat was absent from her slender body, but he would make do with the circumstances. As he explored her scalp and roots, he felt her let out a gentle sigh as she leaned back against him. The cool breeze stirred around them, leaves spiraling across the emerald ground. Slate could feel the females staring at them and how fondly he was touching the human female, catching a glimpse of their heads spinning around to avoid his gaze once he shot the a slant.

And it was the oddest thing: he didn't care, not one bit. In fact, as he proceeded to pick scraps of leaves out of her crown, he felt something completely different wash over him. "I'm sure he'll be out of your hair when the time comes for him to leave," murmured Krissa.

This struck a chord. The male reflected on just how selfishly angry he had been with her, about how fond she had become of the human male, and realized just how much of a callous heel he had been. Guilt overwhelmed him and his hands slowed their roaming tendencies; he hadn't even thought about how Krissa felt in the situation. She wasn't of their kind, and so she was by no means obligated to stay with them... After all, nobody had asked her what she wanted, yet there had been whisperings and gossip of her departing in the next few weeks.

"What do you think?" Slate rasped carefully, going out on a limb.

Slate felt her shift uncomfortably against him. "What do you mean?" she replied, matching his murmuring volume.

The outcross allowed his hands to still and his gaze bore into the back of her head. There was a precarious pause, the young woman tilting her head to she could just catch a small piece of him. A pang of sorrow hit him like a tidal wave, seeing how her dark lashes fluttered. Would he actually miss her? It took every bone in his body to force himself to continue his investigation. Slate watched as she twisted herself around, rather hesitant and confused. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't fight the nausea that the conversation was casting upon him, amber eyes gleaming with raw emotion. Settling back, he realized just how stuck he felt beneath her gaze. There was no going back- besides, he had no idea how to somehow weasel his way around this hurdle. They sat extremely close to one another, her emerald-and-amber gaze examining him with innocent question. ' **You don't have to stay, you know**..' he remarked finally, gazing at her. His movements were excruciating to make, but he had to say it. Krissa hovered, the breeze suddenly seeming to become chilly in that moment, biting through the male's coat.

Finally, her eyes turned toward Nic, observing how he played with the young ones, showing them something gold and gleaming that he had taken out of his pocket. "Nic is..." she began, then her voice caught in her throat and she swallowed gently. "He's a nice guy. Very sweet and caring. He's a good listener, and I don't mind his company after all." Reaching down, the young woman began to curl her fingers into the damp earth and the shoots of drying grass. A leaf skittered by. There was a pause and he glanced away, up at the sky for a moment. A raven drifted by overhead, across the milky blue stretch, letting out a croak as it landed in a nearby branch. It's raven feathers, glossed with violet and green in places. When she began to speak once more, his cranium turned downward. "He mentioned another group a few times..." Slate felt his belly lurched and his throat clamped shut, eyes drilling into the side of her temple. "I've been wondering if maybe they'd accept me too."

Beat. Her pate redirected toward the outcross beside her. "I was thinking..." Her warm soprano vocals stilled and her lips parted, blinking her large eyes over at him. Slate noticed how her eyes seemed to become lustrous with brine. "Maybe I..."

She was considering it and he knew it; every hair on his shoulder began to twitch.

A series of pant-hoots made every head within the clearing turn. It was Sparrow, her greying head bobbing through the trees. ' **Slate, Krissa is needed up at the Medicine Tree** ,' she announced. Pulling away from the human, he rose slightly up onto his hind legs and tilted his great head, one brow arched in inquest.

Raising a hand, he fluidly curled all but his pinky finger in toward his palm, before flattened it once more. Finally, he repeated the action- this effectively signed the simple question, ' **Why**?'

' **Pine wants to speak with her** ,' Sparrow reluctantly explained.

The human and the ape both simultaneously looked at one another, both boggled by Pine's odd request.

They exchanged a look, both equally perplexed. _What_?

* * *

Tinker and Shell had both explained to Slate about how his brother wished to visit with her in private, and yet despite doing so rather thoroughly, Slate still caused a ruckus. She could hear him bickering with the females, trying to explain to them just how dangerous it was, the sound of his grunts and growls fading as she waded through the thick miasma that was at the entrance of the massive fan-tree. The smell of dried herbs and melting candle wax willed her nose, the eerie silence making every hair on her body stand on end. Her hand gently found the dangling chain around her neck, running her fingers over the stone that dangled from around her neck for comfort. The room was dull and dark in most places. Krissa's belly churned, agitated and uncomfortable, wondering where exactly he could be. Her eyes scanned the surrounding area, pondering upon whether he would ambush her from above or something, but then they finally found him.

The male sat with his back facing her, his dark coat covering his bony spine; if she didn't know Slate any better, she could have mistaken his muscular torso for his, seeing as the two were fairly similar in appearance. Aside from those rather ghoulish bichromatic eyes and that scar, the only difference was their piercings. Okay, perhaps Pine was a bit different. Krissa stood still, waiting for the male to speak up. There was only silence, the sound of his breath whistling in and out of his damaged larynx. She couldn't quite make out his face, seeing as it was mostly cast in shadow, but his cranium stilted slightly and she could just make out the beginnings of a cloudy optical, the flesh swollen and bulging around the moist and grotesque organ. The light hit the iris and sclera, the ciliary similar to how the river looked during spring, as if silt were creating such a murky yet almost translucent ambiance.

He was giving her a side-glance yet couldn't tell whether he was giving her a threatening look or a placid, dull one. Krissa decided to go with the lesser of the two evils. "Pine?" she peeped, unable to hide how timid she was. "You wanted to see me?"

The male finally broke his gargoyle-like vigil and tilted his still frame, ascending onto his hind legs. Was mistaken, or was he taller than Slate? The ory light cast across his face and she felt her gut twist. He was blind in one eye. It hadn't been a deer this time to injure him- it had been his own flesh and blood. Krissa couldn't help but swallow nervously. His stare caused goosebumps to race across her arms, which she quickly reacted to by curling her fingers up inside of the cuffs of her saffron-orange knit sweater. Her eyes danced along his face and she tentatively took a partial step forward. Pine's teeth flashed at her and he narrowed his eyes, swollen and non. She had to admit, she was fairly frightened of both brothers, although Slate protected her more often than not. After Pine had discovered her by the river, she had held a sort of resentment for him, but she had attempted to look past it in order to make things go more smoothly. Unfortunately, Pine hadn't picked up on her silent invitation to agree to disagree, and had taken action himself in many attempts to have her thrown out or hurt. It had all built up for Slate, and the scuffle the two had had - no, the bloody battle they had had was the breaking point.

"Thank you," Pine suddenly wheezed, breaking her train of thought. Krissa's lips parted in confusion. His gaze was cold yet full of embarrassment and shame. It had fallen gently away, maw contorted in evident thought. The silence now crackled with unspoken energy and questions. She wanted to talk to him and try and get him to open up, but how? The male was a sealed clam, and without the proper tools, she was unsure whether she could crack him open without injuring herself. Pine was unpredictable. Usually she could read body language, but like his brother, it was hard to distinguish what specifically the disfigured bonobo-outcross was thinking or feeling.

"You're... you're very welcome," she replied warily. "But why are you thanking me?" This was extremely irregular, especially when coming from such an arrogant, bull-headed male. Once again, there was a heavy silence, but this time she frowned deeply, brows knitting together. Pine's breath whistled in through his nose and out his mouth, his breathing labored. Slate had really done a number on him-

That's when she realized it. Pine's pride had been completely demolished. He had been defeated in front of many of his companions and tribemates, so what did that mean for him? He would surely be cast to the bottom of the heap, dwindling in the ranks while his brother rose in the meantime. Krissa felt her toes curling within her boots. The future couldn't be pretty, in no way shape or form. Not unless Pine changed his egotistical tendencies like his brother had. Perhaps she could show him who she really was. Passing her tongue over her lips in a hasty attempt to find the right words, she stepped closer and crouched slightly, attempting to meet his eyes. He quickly latched onto her with those ravenous optics of his, newfound aggression breaking out across his features. "Y.. You're blind now?" she breathed. There was a lull and then her mouth ran dry as she noticed how his gaze almost withdrew itself, followed by it softening.

His head hung and he held a crestfallen expression, although a deep ire was clearly growing now. It looked as if Krissa had stoke some sort of fire within Pine after she had seemingly struck a nerve. His hands hovered and then came to his chest, beating gently as a gorilla would; then, curling his pinkie and ring finger inward upon one hand, he then rested the bed of his thumb on top of them. Slightly crimping his middle and index, he brought it to the flesh on either side of his nose, just below his eyes. ' **If ape blind** ,' he stiffly stressed. ' **He's useless**.'

Her heart nearly broke, yet she still felt something inexplicable curdle within her belly. ' **I'm sorry**...' Krissa asserted sternly, earning a callous glare. ' **Slate was only protecting me... if you hadn't have** -'

"Do not.. chastise me!" he challenged, growling deep within his chest. _Chastise_? How much did this ape read? Where had he learned that word? From his _father_? Falling silent, she realized that she had indeed stepped out of place and held her tongue. Krissa had always been one to speak her mind, but she also knew when it wasn't appropriate. Quiet returned to it's throne and now ruled over the room once again. Shaking her head, her eyes fell. She felt pity for the male, but at the same time, he had walked straight into it. Slate had already given him a piece of his mind- in fact, he had countless times. Pine just wouldn't listen. He was too proud. The bulky brute had returned to moping on the edge of his nest, settled back upon his behind with his shoulder turned to her. Nodding, she took this as her cue to leave, turned and began to wander out.

" _Human_ -" Pine addressed, spitting the word out as if it were vile and stopping her in her tracks.

Anger welled behind her eyes to a point where it hurt. " _What_?" she hissed back, her head snapping around in order to shoot daggers in his direction. He wasn't even looking her way, just sitting there like a wilted thistle in a dry vase. Reticence reigned supreme once more.

Krissa began to take her leave once again, however she hadn't made it even one step forward before he croaked, "Thank you for .. stopping Slate." Head held high, she didn't even give him the courtesy of looking back at him. Without another word, the ravenette continued forward, although not before taking into account his gratitude.

* * *

The moment that Krissa had climbed up into the Medicine Tree's branches and onto the limb beside him, the outcross felt his body unwind and relax. With a grunt of assertion, he reached out and offered her a hand, whilst signing with the other. His spear was resting just below, in a knotted branch where it was within reach yet still out of the way. ' **You're okay**?' he demanding without finesse. It was quite clear to see his concern- he didn't try and hide it anymore. Krissa smiled softly at him. ' **He didn't hurt you**?'

"I'm fine, don't worry," Krissa responded, grunting as she lifted herself up and then allowed her legs to dangle over the edge of the branch. "He didn't lay a finger on me- in fact, he stayed away, on the other side of the room." The two relaxed side-by-side and gazed off toward the horizon, a thick swath of clouds beginning to approach from the distance. Ah, it was no wonder, seeing as how muggy and tense the air had felt for the last few days. They were in for some well-earned rain. The desert in the distance was but a speck, the lake below stretching out to meet it, desperately attempting to offer it water yet to no avail. The mountains surrounding were great humps covered in auburn and crimson and gold, along with it's trademark forest emerald. Birds were chatting up a storm, screaming into the air and speaking to one another about what was to come. Slate crossed his arms and allowed his head to rest upon one of his sinewy limbs. Krissa's tongue clicked and her head turned, unimpressed and perplexed by something she had caught in between her ears. Grunting in question, their eyes met as she revealed, "He actually thanked me."

Slate felt his face screw up, his snout wrinkling and his lips curling in bewilderment. This caused Krissa to snort and laugh, her teeth flashing in amusement. "I know, right? _Exactly_!" she remarked, referring to his expression. The outcross loved the sound of her laughter. Peeling his eyes off of her, the two returned to a comfortable silence, watching the storm looming closer and closer. Judging by the deep shadowy haze it gave off, the rain would be falling like frigid stones dropped from a cliff. His mind wandered, recalling how Cornelius hadn't establish any form of punishment, and yet his brother and he were still cast out from scouting and hunting patrols. It was mostly labor, working in the fields or making repairs to equipment. Pine, on the other hand, was simply spending his days feeling sorry for himself behind those protective walls, safe from the judgemental stares and the discrimination. Of course, he thought.

 _Yellow-bellied snake_ , a tiny voice cursed within the back of his head.

A low growl of thunder warned the apes of the approaching storm. Heads turned from below, children flinched and wailed. Apes slowly began to return to their homes, preparing for the oncoming weather. The wind was beginning to pick up. "Jeez, I haven't seen clouds like that in a long time," Krissa commented softly, frowning.

Slate glanced over at her, his nose twitching. "It will.. hit us hard. Need to get back home." The male rose to his hand legs and gracefully offered her a hand, letting out a peep of a hoot in order to grab her attention. Gratefully taking his mitt, Krissa ambled up and began to prepare her descent, hopping down to the branch below and using his perch to balance herself with one hand grasping the bark. Her gaze washed over the clear for a moment before it returned up to him. Slate had other plans. "Are you coming?" she asked, her large chartreuse eyes fluttering from beneath dark lashes.

"No," he asserted. "Go find Poppy.." Reaching over, he stretched his torso and retrieved Koba's former weapon, the wood feeling familiar within his grasp. 'And find your human a place to stay.' Without much more small-talk, the two parted ways and Slate landed upon the fan-tree's path, peering up the ramp for a moment.

Finally, he took a deep breath and took his turn, entering the forboding room.

* * *

"Brother," Pine's rasp hit his ears. His eyes fell upon that shadowed face of his.

' **You thanked her**?' he interjected, refusing formalities. ' **For what**?'

His brother's face was swollen and his coat unkempt. It was clear that Spoon hadn't even come to see him, seeing as how she would groom him herself. The dim haze in the room was smokey from the extinguished columns of wax near the entrance, the breeze from outside having gusted them into silence, snuffing them out. Watery grey shafts bled through the cracks of the roof, the branches not enough to stop some of the grey glaze of the world from entering. In those shafts, he noticed something that stopped him dead in his tracks. Pine took note of how his brother noticed his now dead eye and allowed his gaze to harden, one hand flying up to cover his permanently handicapped eye. ' **This was not from a cigar** ,' he signed maliciously. ' **It was from you, brother**.'

"You did this to yourself," Slate found himself saying, voice guttural in his maw. He had lost all control over his own filter. It was gone now- out the window, lost to the storm, flying in the wind. Outside, the apes were beginning to hoot and bray uneasily, the gale's breeze catching the ribbons of silvery smoke around the room. As soon as he had finished his sentence, his brother let out a rumbling laugh, giving a breathy pant as his nostrils flared. This only angered him more, yet he did not speak. He allowed him to explain himself. ' **Its funny** ,' he mused brashly. The tree groaned gently as it swayed. ' **Your attraction to this female makes you blind. Makes you stupid**.'

" _Attraction_?-"

' **If you hadn't known her beforehand, you wouldn't be protecting her now. We wouldn't be here** ,' the arrogant outcross continued, stepping closer to his twin brother. Their coats were rising, teeth bared in an attempt to intimidate the other. The standoff had already begun and Slate had just gotten in the goddamn door. ' **She would be dead and life would have been fine, but because she's here, and you want to play the hero, there's another one of them in our village**!'

'Never wanted to be a hero- not trying to play that role. It's not my place-'

"Just protecting her? You are a _fool_ , Slate," his brother snarled. "All for this female. Don't think we cannot see .. right through you." His brother's finger placed itself upon his chest, blood encrusted nails pressing into his flesh and fur. "It's unnatural." Feeling his brother's hot breath hiss upon his cheeks, he instinctively lashed out and shoved him back with the shaft of his spear. Pine held a look of surprise just then, although it was quickly hidden by the flashes of lightning that jabbed through the ceiling above and the faint rain dripping through it's plateau of logs.

' **If you took the time to look past your own nose** -' Slate began to argue, but then cut himself off, his inner turmoil churning restlessly and cutting him off short. Finally he let out a growl and he slammed the hilt of Koba's weapon against the ground, hands moving sharply. ' **She is family! She belongs here. More family than you are** -'

He was quickly caught off guard by his brother's quick jab. ' **More family than _I am_**?!' he countered. ' **More family** -' Pine let out another bray of laughter, amusement twinkling in his single bicolored eye. ' **You treat her like a female in heat, following her like a dog**!' Slate began to pant-bark, but his sibling continued nonetheless. ' **You don't let anybody touch her, you defend her mistakes, you give her false hope in thinking she will ever be one of us** -'

"She always has been!" bellowed Slate, although the sound of his voice was drown out by an explosion of thunder. His words were buzzing between his ears, the truth bitter and cruel, stinging him like tiny angry wasps.

"You tried to.. kill me, your own _brother_ -" Pine abraded, then resorted to signing once more, for his throat could not hold out. ' **You hardly speak of humans until that day with the book. I knew you were hiding something, but when she was tied up out there- tied up by _me_ \- you went to her and fed her. You let her sleep in Poppy's nest**!' Slate yowled and lashed out, the butt of his weapon swiping just above his head, missing as Pine ducked with finesse despite being partially blind. "I see.. the way you look at her!"

 _Shut him up_ , a tiny voice growled.

His brother crouched and hovered not even a meter away, proceeding onward. ' **If you knew where your bloodlines lie, you would have allowed yourself to fall in love with that filthy animal**!'

"I know where our bloodlines lie!" he snapped. Slowly, he began to back his brother up step by step. ' ** _Dead_ with our _father_**!' As he spoke, he watched how his brother's eyes widened with each statement, his voluminous confidence suddenly deflated. ' **Dead with the secret you held from me and Poppy and Lake! Dead with our _baby brother_**!' With an emotional, angry toss, he threw Koba's spear directly at his brother and watched the shock melt into his features, his lips agape. The silence was filled with the screaming wind and the hiss of the rain that dampened their coats. Pine continued to gawk, examining the weapon he now held in his grip. He was at a loss for words. It was his turn now.

' **You cannot blame me for things that _I CANNOT CONTROL_**!' Slate continued. Taking a deep breath through his flaring nostrils, he fought the thick lump in his throat. "Not after you chose to lie, and kept lying, even after Koba died."

Pine suddenly held a look of raw emotion, as if he were about to burst into tears right then and there as he looked at the javelin within his hand. "Who told you?" There was another gust of wind, screaming as it blew overhead. The apes below were crying and calling, all excited and nervous over the intensity of the storm. Pine croaked. ' **You tried to kill me with dad's spear**?'

Slate remained silent, squeezing his eyes shut as he began to feel them burn despite himself. A light sniffle escaped his nose and he kept his eyes glued to the ground. A film of blurred earth laid at his paws. "Should have heard it from you..."

There was a hiccup of sound from his brother and his head reluctantly tilted up, finding that Pine too seemed to have tears gathering in his eyes. They were wet, just as his. Pounding his chest as he gestured toward himself, his movements were jerking and aggressive. 'Was protecting you from him!' Pine justified. ' **Poppy and you, and Lake- you wouldn't have been able to handle it. We were young, and he didn't want us**!'

' **And you could have**?'

' ** _Someone_ had to**-'

' **Mother already had**.' Pine flinched as his brother cut him off and the two just stared at one another. ' **You're no better than him**...' His hands trailed and Pine's gaze widened only further.

"We are the same," Pine attempted to say. "Does that.. make you any.. bette-"

' **You want blood** ,' Slate deadpanned, rising to his hind legs.

"Coming from.. the one who tried to kill me?" Pine sneered, playfully tossing the weapon over to him. The amber-eyed ape caught it with no trouble, shocked that he returned it to him. He did not wish to have it, but... here he was, holding the old weapon in his dark hands. "That would have.. killed you, because you were .. weak. _Weak_ , Slate."

Weak? He had had enough. ' **You had this coming**!' Slate retaliated, blowing up. He stormed over and bowled past his brother, turning his back to him as he headed for the entrance. ' **You deserve this- you do not lie to family**!' Pausing by the entrance, he finally glared over his shoulder, meeting Pine's eyes. Clearly he had forgotten that threat he had made so many days ago. " _I warned you_."

"Brother..." rasped Pine, calling after him. Then, as the bonobo cross twins parted ways, he heard his brother yelling for him to return above the storm. "Brother!" The tree vibrated as an explosion of thunder roared overhead.

"SLATE!"

* * *

The rain fell in great splatters to the earth, dropping off ledges and draining off moss. The sky above rumbled constantly it seemed, the birds crying above, as if thankful for how cool it had become. Slate could feel the rain mingling in with his sweat, having worked up a steady wave of perspiration from both climbing and fuming from the conversation he and his brother had just had. Pine finally knew that their family's secret had been revealed to him and his siblings, and it seemed as though he felt nothing yet everything all at once. He just didn't know who his best friend was anymore: his constant blood-thirst was leading him down the wrong path and he was afraid that he may make the types of tyrannical choices Koba had so long ago. As the male outcross stalked across the village square, he caught sight of the human male, Nic, attempting to keep himself warm beneath the ledge he was always nestled beneath. Their eyes met momentarily before Slate drew his attention away, wiping his face with a large ape mitt. Finally he came to his own humble abode, although he found that there was a small furry shape standing near the door, blocking his way in. Confused, Slate stepped over and peering up and around, wondering what exactly was going on. He took a few steps inside where he was dry, and then allowed his eyes to find Krissa, precariously perched on the side of the hut and attempting to balance herself on a notch in the wood. Giving Poppy a prod in order to inquire about the situation, he suddenly startled the poor thing, which she reacted with a squeaking yeep of surprise. Jolting in surprise, Slate let out a grunt, followed by Krissa letting out a small yell of alarm as she began to lose her balance. Shooting forward, Slate dropped his weapon and allowed it to clatter to the ground, making it just in time to catch her in his arms. The young woman blinked a few times before she met his eyes and gave a sheepish smile. Poppy seemed to be amused by this little chain reaction, and let out a giggle of primitive laughter.

As Slate stared down at her, he began to feel that burning in his belly and ears, his heart beating wildly within his chest from how close they were from one another. Flustered, he gave a chiding rumble and gave her a gentle push upward, allowing the ravenette to collect herself. "Sorry, we were just trying to fix a leak," she explained, pointing toward the roof. "It keeps falling on Poppy's nest, right where her head is, so I thought maybe I could reach it and plug it up with these twigs."

Krissa simpered and gestured toward the partially woken ball of bark and moss. His snout wrinkled and he reached down, picking up the makeshift blockage system. It would hold at least until the storm passed. Shooting his sister a glance, she looked at him with a hopeful look on her slender face, earning an eye-roll from her older sibling. ' **Okay** ,' he demurred, ignoring how his sister yeeped in amusement at his reluctance. He was just coming down from his little anxiety attack when he stretched up and began to search for the source of the leak, feeling along the ceiling with his free hand.

"Up along in the left corner," the ravenette piped up. Krissa returned to his side, leaning up next to him and pointing out where the leak was. Droplets fell upon her caramel skin, peppering her fingers with beads of moisture. With a flick, she discarded the water and then reached down to wipe it on the leg of her dark blue jeans. Once more, his heart quaked inside his breast and he swallowed a heavy lump in his throat. There was an unpleasant shaking within his hands and his body was responding to how warm she was, his hair bristling slightly.

With an index finger and a grunt, she gestured to the dribbling area, and he stuffed the material up inside, effectively absorbing and blocking it. Then, with a gentle hand, he wrapped his limb around Krissa's slender waist and dropped to the floor with her next to him, landing perfectly upon Poppy's bedding. Slate quickly released the survivor, only to be drawn into a suffocating bought of affection from his sister. ' **Thank you brother** ,' she signed gratefully. Poppy nudged her brother and wrapped an arm around his broad shoulders, only for him to brush her off with a complaint. Peeling herself off of him, Poppy looked at him with a cock of her head.

The male outcross offered her a funny look, he scrunched up his face in an irritated manner. ' **What**?' he asked, splaying his finger on each hand and giving them a vague and confused shake.

"You're acting weird," responded the bonobo cross. Her frown deepened.

' **I just went to speak to Pine earlier** ,' Slate covered, his head tilting upward to gaze upon the roof. Suddenly, a large droplet of water fell and burst across his brow, earning a hoot from him. Krissa and Poppy followed through, then glanced at one another and smiled. They were finding this funny? Another swollen, frigid bead fell and dripped down his spine. Ignoring their mirth, he turned toward Krissa. ' **Got any more**?'

' **Moss and bark**?' motioned the ravenette. Poppy was quick to waddle outside and return with a wad of each.

Slate quickly snatched them from his sibling and began to ball them up. ' **Might need some mud** ,' he suggested, thinking it might hold it together better.

"Mud and water don't mix well, Slate..." Krissa remarked, smirking.

' **I don't want mud dripping on me! Water is bad enough** ,' Poppy brayed, gesturing in protest and shaking her head. Holding his hands up, he gave in, taking that as a no. Krissa laughed, much to his distaste, and rose to her feet.

"Just don't fall like I did," purred the woman, a hand brushing over his shoulders as she passed by him. He bit back an unwanted shutter as he felt her fingers comb through his thick coat, his head following her as she moved across the room. That agitated thumping within his chest returned and he felt as if his primitive ears were being scalded by the amount of boiling blood rushing to his head. Slate stiffly turned himself around and hoisted himself up, stretching to the top of the hut and using the notches in the walls to balance himself. He tried to ignore the look that Poppy was giving him. Thankfully his sister moved on and didn't question him. "That's good though. Mist said-"

Slate piped up, tilting his head toward her after stuffing one wad up into an overhead crack. " _Mother_ , call her mother," he corrected sternly, offering a hard look. The look in Poppy's eyes gave away that she would be more than happy to be able to call Mist by her proper title.

"Mother said that.. Pine takes after Koba," the female reiterated. "But can change. Just needs to control his .. temper." Silence fell over the room and Slate finished stuffing the materials up inside the leaks. Thankfully it had worked this time. Coming to sit down next to Poppy, the two watched as Krissa wandered by the door, peering out into the harsh spray of the storm.

"It's going to take a lot more than.. just.. controlling his temper," he remarked bitterly.

Poppy's hand came to one of his ulnas, gripping it tight. ' **Please, have more faith. He's our brother**...' He wished he could tell her that it wasn't as easy as that, but unfortunately it seemed as though his attempt would just as complicated. His sister continued to try and defend their brother. ' **You have a temper too. You work well with others, so does he when he's in the mood. You were are alike, and you know it**.'

"Poppy," he warned. Her ashen eyes hardened. ' **He's blind because of me**...'

Never had he seen his sibling express such anguish. The male reached out and caught her hand before she could move away. ' **Hear me out** ,' he plead, struggling to hold her gaze. ' **Only in one eye.. And they might be able to fix it**.' The last bit was a lie, and he knew it, but he had to keep her hopes up.

' **How did you manage that**?' she demanded.

' **I don't- don't know** -' he stammered, attempting to figure out what to say to Poppy in this state. He didn't want to upset her further, but he had to tell her the truth, right? It was only fair...

"Guys, Nic's been out there in the rain for a long time..." Krissa piped up, standing in the door of their hut with her arms hugging her body. "I think we should bring him in... he's gonna get sick."

His eyes tore away from his sister's and he glared over in her direction. Rising to his hind legs, he gestured, ' **This is our home, not his**.'

Her brows knit together, her eyes widening in protest. "He's freezing! What, you would help me, but not him?" Krissa swung an arm toward the entrance of the door, gesturing toward the outside world. The storm was still raging outside. Slate couldn't believe what she was trying to get him to do. She knew how he felt about the human male! They never got along, and frankly, he couldn't stand her attitude. Stepping closer, he bared his teeth.

' **Knew you, not him** ,' he scowled, jabbing her chest as soon as he was within reach.

The ravenette crossed her arms. "He's good! You've seen how he handled the white-tails.."

Krissa closed the distance between the two of them, their eyes burning into one another's. Poppy glanced between the two, until finally she let out a bray. This snapped the two of them out of their argument. ' **For Caesar's sake, let him in**!'

With a sassy tilt of her head, she tongued the inside of her cheek and looked back to her opposer. The two remained bull-headed for a moment, neither refusing to bow or make a move. Slate let out a growl. ' **He stays out there, and that is final**!'

And before Slate knew it, Nic was sitting in the far corner, drenched to the bone and shivering. The man stared at Krissa, Poppy and finally a very displeased Slate from where he huddled, trying to keep warm. Breaking out her blanket, Krissa closed up her hiking bag and then offered the man the material in hope that it would not only dry him off, but keep him warm. "Uh... thanks for lettin' me in, guys...?" he stated shakily, teeth chattering vigorously. Slate's amber set narrowed as he glared off toward the human, listening to his nervous ramblings as he avoided the outcross's gaze. "I never really liked the rain- I mean, _uh_ , well, it's just better for me to stay dry." He chuckled, earning a giggle from Krissa. "I'm like a cat."

Poppy pressed close to her brother, uneasy about the tension in the room. Slate was not only pissed off over the presence of the human male, but was pretty frustrated with Krissa too. Finally, Nic's eyes found his from across the room and he shrank slightly. "Is he, uh... gonna disembowel me or somethin'?" This earned a giggle from the survivor.

"No, he's just grumpy because he didn't get his way." The ravenette settled down near him and crossed her legs, brushing a few damp oily locks from the man's face. Nic gave a soft smile and his cheeks turned a light shade of pink, and in turn Krissa's dimples showed. Slate felt his gut flip at the sight of this and fought the urge to charge over and separate the two of them. A bubbling, boiling bought of rage simmered in his belly, yet there was nothing he could really do about it. At the end of the day, they were two different species and he was oblivious as to why he felt the way he did. Her words stung more than he thought they would. Of course he was upset with her. He had let her get under his skin, and she was using it against him. Krissa laughed again, the sound of her beautiful vocals something he loved to hear, yet still managed to irritate him severely in this moment.

Next to him, he felt his sister nudge him and he turned his head. They exchanged a fleeting look, his sister appearing rather expectant, as if he is far too easy to read (which he was) until finally he gave in and groaned uncomfortably, leaning against her. Poppy sighed softly into his coat and murmured, "What's wrong, brother?" Without a reasonable explanation, he remained with his lips closed, his nostrils flaring and a great huff escaping him.

What was wrong? He was trying to separate his emotions and thoughts so he could think clearly. The murmuring of their voices proceeded. "There's only about fifteen of us on this island, y'see? We were together at the start, all roommates. A couple got sick, a couple died in the riots. We made it to the coast n' we got on a boat, and then we shipped off. Been there ever since, only come back for food and stuff." Nic didn't have that much of an interesting story to tell.

It was when he began to ask Krissa about it that Poppy perked up, and eventually her brother did too. They ambled closer, although Slate was more reluctant, shooting Nic a nasty stink-eye. "Well... I lived with my mother. She was a lawyer, and my dad was a veterinarian. When the flu broke out, we tried to get to her, but she was killed before we could reach her in time. Some guy had decided to shoot her over her TV," Krissa reminisced, a look of melancholy taking on her pretty features. Her freckled cheeks peaked as she recalled her father. Slate felt the urge to reach out and stop her, but instead he just remained as still as stone, listening with intent. "My daddy was the kindest, funniest man you would have ever met. He was brave, and he kept me alive all those years. We went camping here a lot, so he knew the woods well, and we stayed here for a long time. The riots started not long after the government began to deteriorate. We stayed with a few family friends, but some of them got sick, so we .. we left and just went deep into these woods."

She took a moment to take a shallow breath and close her eyes. This wasn't easy for her. "We were alright for a year and a half, until last summer. That's when he started showing symptoms. We thought we were both immune, but.. It turns out that he wasn't. The sickness caused him to lose his memory, and when he started forgetting me.. That's when it started getting scary." Krissa's smile had disappeared and she had a grave look on her face. "I would wake up to him in the middle of the night, struggling to breathe and I would have to perform CPR on him, just to help him get through the evening. Some nights I wouldn't even sleep."

Glancing over at Slate and Poppy, she began to examine those around her. It was quiet, the only sound being the rain now drumming upon the roof, the wind gusting outside. "Between living in fear of this colony and struggling to keep my dad and myself alive, it really began to take a toll," she murmured. Her eyes fell and darkened. "I remember one morning, he was up and walking around, and calling my name. I was confused, because... I was right there, but then he turned on me, and asked me what I had done. I couldn't quite understand, but... when he attacked me, that's when I realized just how serious things had gotten. He chased me like an animal, and I ran- I tried to get away, but then he had me pinned, and I..." Krissa's voice broke in her throat and she seemed to stop breathing. Slate let out a gentle hoot and Poppy brushed her arm. Taking a deep breath, her eyes fluttered open and she took on a steely demeanor.

"Damn... you don't have to keep goin' Krissa, it's fine.." Nic reassured.

Shaking her head, she met his gaze. "I pulled his gun out of it's holster and I placed it between his eyes. Pulled the trigger," she continued. "That was that." You could hear a pin-drop above the storm outside. The light had died, the sun having gone down behind the rain clouds. "I curled up in the cave we had been sharing and I slept there for days, waiting for the sickness to come because I was covered in his blood. That's how it spread from person to person, right? It never came though. I never got sick." Awestruck, Nic's brown eyes widened slightly, peering at her with admiration. "After a week of feeling sorry for myself, I woke up one morning, stood up and dragged his body off. I made a grave and then laid him to rest with his gun at his grave. Then I got up, went to the lake and washed myself off, and had some lunch."

Slate remained as still as a deer in the headlights, staring at her with those incredible emerald-hazel eyes of hers. His heart beat deep and slow within his cavernous chest, yet was loud enough to be heard within his ears, and he could feel it within his hands and feet.

Pine was right. He was in love.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** _Hey guys, it's been a month or more. I'm sorry for the long-awaited update- work has been kicking my butt lately. I really hope that you guys are enjoying the story so far, and I really appreciate you all who have been reading this story. To make up for the absence, I have pulled together THE LONGEST chapter we've had in this fanfiction at this time. I'm glad I was able to put the parts together properly, because I was originally having a hard time with it. Thankfully, I got through it, and here we are. Pine is an outcast now, he's partially blind. The family knows about their biological mother and father. What do you think is going to happen next?_

 _Don't forget to leave a fav/follow and a review on what you like about this so far. Tell me who your favorite character is, what you like about the story, and what you think overall about how the storyline is coming together._

 _I love you guys so much xx and as always, I'll see you in the next chapter._

 _Bye pals!_


	16. The Desert (XV)

**_Water_**. The landscape was dusty and dry. Water. Sand hissed as the hot wind stirred its grainy particles. **_Water_**. Slate needed _water_. He could still feel the blood - his own blood - sticky where it had poured down his front. It crusted generously along his nostrils and had long since grown tacky upon his upper lip. He was so thirsty, his throat so parched. Crimson matted up his powerful arms, his bones aching for relief as he traveled along the endless plain of the desert. He was wandering in a delirious fervor, his mind in a heavy fog of hazy heat and blistering sun. There was not a cool wisp of air within his body, his face feeling as if it were on fire, the dark fur on his body suffocating him with each gulp of air. All he could taste was the old familiar bittersweet tang of copper. What time was it? What was his goal? Where was he heading? So many questions were left unanswered, bouncing off the walls of his mind in a constant echo, as if he were speaking into a dark cave. _Home… where is… home?_ Slate thought. Home. It was an odd word, something he held close; it was something all apes held close. It was something indescribable, something untouchable, yet something real and authentic. It was similar to his milk mother's rich scent, similar to his sister's deep ashen eyes and the faint memory of his father's husky voice. It all felt so far away.

Slate's amber gaze swept to his right: a greyish blue horizon touched the burnt landscape like a cool, cloud-riddled ocean he wished to reach. He'd dunk his head and take massive mouthfuls, feeling the crisp liquid slide down his parched throat, relishing in the relief. How strange: he wished to drink the sky. His point of view swept to his left, and he found his gaze falling upon a withered tree. It was leafless and dead in appearance, like a clawed hand reaching to the heavens for mercy. No more! It plead. Slate's eyes rolled within their sockets, suddenly feeling his head begin to swim, as well as a peculiar tugging sensation, as if he were leaving this world. Was this what it felt like to die? The dizzying feeling of falling forward; his cranium feeling as if it were floating above the clouds; his ears buzzing with his steady rhythmic pulse. He staggered and stumbled, preparing himself for the impact of his heavy limbs hitting the cracked and dry earth. It wasn't until he suddenly caught himself, somehow, that he regained his mind.

What had kept him at his feet? Koba's spear. It had appeared out of thin air, clenched within his fists and supporting all his weight just before he had fallen unconscious. There was that pulling feeling again, sand stinging his eyes, hot wind buffeting against his ears and face. His lashes fluttered, eyes narrowing against the sudden wave of burning golden-brown granules. Gritting his teeth, he attempted to peer ahead, making out something rather odd as he faded in and out of consciousness. Pushing forward, he slowly approached the shadow of a figure, forcing his eyes to remain partially shut against the dust storm. Part of him wished to cry out, but his primal instinct kept his throat locked up. Why was he out here? The torrent began to slowly die down, the figure slowly becoming more and more apparent. He remembered, the heat of battle, the taste of flesh and blood; the white-hot burning pain of his own chest splitting open as shrapnel and bullets rained down upon him and his cavalry.

The blade of the ruggedly handsome spear was coated in glistening blood, the color staining the wood of it's mighty shaft.

Pine.

The outcross's head shot up and he felt his entire body straighten. He fought the overwhelming urge to call out, shocked to find another primate out among the endless flats. Slate's digits curled into the sand and he let out a croak, a pant-chuff that sounded as if he had rocks rattling along his vocal chords. He craved another's touch, for once in his life, and felt his heart sing as the sauntering frame stilled. The final remnants of the torrid gust suddenly cut short and stilled, the air as clear as ever as he stared at a broken and bloodied face. Slate's breath stilled within his desiccated throat as at first he wondered if he were looking into a mirror. His brow was heavy, his eyes stormy and troubled, the milky-blind optic on his left as dead as a fish out of water. Patches of fur were missing from his broad shoulders and the top of his head.

The bonobo's teeth peered out from between his lips as he remained where he was, head tilted over his shoulder at his son. It had felt like an era since he had laid eyes upon his father.

At first Slate was met with that cold, cruel exterior his father usually held, but then… his features softened. Koba's head rose slowly, echoing his son's expression of bewilderment.

His reflection.


	17. The Hair (XVI)

After the blood had been cleared from his airways; after Shell had patched him up and Spoon had babied him, Pine didn't want to be touched.

Each time somebody would lay a hand on him, he'd shrug them off, refusing to accept their sympathy. He felt as though his insides were just one muddled heap of flesh and excrement. With the smell of woodsmoke and heavy rain thick in his nostrils, Pine watched his brother storm off into the sheets of precipitation, heart thrumming angrily in his chest. The eldest twin chinobo clutched what was left behind after the argument they had shared. The battle of tongues had ended, leaving him feeling just as mutilated as before. The emotions were raw and simmered in his chest, all becoming far too clear within his head.

He refused to deny it now.

Sightless in one eye, he was, and not only that... but he was deeply envious of his brother.

Pine was envious of his passion, envious of his drive and his strength- he was envious of the fear Slate had brought to the colony, envious of his new love, envious of how close he was with their sister and how their leader respected him and his even his little pet. His brother was his worst enemy.

Tilting his good optic down toward the strands of auburn that had been left behind by his father's spear, he gritted his teeth and felt his muscles tremble before finally tightening his steel grip around them. They were the color of fire, the color of inferno, the color of burning autumn. The hair was the exact hue that Koba had once come to love, despite it having belonged to the species he had loathed for so long. Pine's coat rose along his spine.

He hunched over and brought the strands of fiery tangerine closer to his broad and bruised chest.

Slate would learn.


	18. The Huntress (XVII)

_Smack_.

Krissa gritted her teeth and glanced up toward the higher branches of the fallen pine, peering up at the apes above with narrowed green eyes. Normally she wouldn't have such trouble with the others, but today of all days she was being bullied something particularly awful. After the storm had passed, it had become very apparent that something was out of place. A massive pine had collapsed into the ape village, landing inches from the royal family's home. The colony had been working since dawn in order to get some of the branches cleared away before they would try and start the removal process. Smack. Another pinecone collided with the back of her head. Krissa gritting her teeth, trying to ignore the way the apes settled up above in the branches grunted in amusement. Tugging at another branch, she brought the tomahawk in her hand down upon the its spongy bark. Krissa tugged back a few times before it finally snapped off and tossed it off to the side. It landed among a few others she had managed to break earlier, giving a dull hiss of it's rustling needles.

 _Smack, smack._

Biting back a groan of frustration, the ravenette proceeded to move to the next limb. _Smack_. Lord help her. Her head turned on its axis and she glowered up toward the two, taking note of the apeish smirks upon their faces. Sage and Quill. She wanted to snap at them for their behavior, but instead, remained silent. Why heckle them and give them what they wanted? They were acting like children anyway. The young woman took a deep breath and returned to her puttering, ignoring how their paws thudded against the trunk as they followed her. With a firm grasp, Krissa began to climb; one-two-three. The young woman bore down and hoisted herself up further with a grunt and then crouched, her dirtied fingers pressing tightly into the slippery pine's bark. At first she paused, taking in the scenery from the precarious spot on the limb, but eventually she hobbled over to the trunk and used her bare toes to balance herself. Her light body hovered gracefully as she raised the ax high and then brought it sailing down. The branch cracked and then she reached down, giving it a few vigorous jerks. Feeling the hot afternoon sun on her back, she couldn't help but enjoy the serenity of the moment. She listened to the communication of the apes as they spoke back and forth, cooperating as a huge team in order to clear out the hazard present. They were all working away peacefully. The harsh aroma of pine sap filled her nose and stuck to her palms, leaving a gummy texture behind. Krissa didn't mind, though.

 _Smack_. Krissa wrinkled her nose and grabbed the nearest pinecone, and within a rash moment of thought, she launched it toward the two chimpanzees that jeered just above her.

 _ **SMACK**_!

The eldest of the two snarled. Quill yipped in surprise. The two tensed and the hair along Sage's shoulders began to rise. _Right_ , these were wild animals.

 _Oh no_.. The pinecone within Quill's hand suddenly disappeared as he lunged.

Quickly, the young woman wheeled around. Krissa began to climb her way up the trunk, having abandoned her tomahawk in search of refuge, knowing fully well that the two males were in hot pursuit. Quill's pant-huffs caused her pace to quicken, brushing by anybody in her path in order to get out of the way, muttering apologies the entire way. She scrambled, then knelt, her knees smashing into the surface until she eventually found that she could no longer keep her grip in places, her hands too damp. Surprised shrieks erupted from a male who she nearly knocked over, which caused Krissa's heart to just about leap from her throat. "Sorry!" she shouted back as soon as she caught sight of the male's sour expression. Losing her footing so suddenly, her heart leapt and she, in turn, did as well. Her body caught the air and she felt a rough hand snatched at her ankle, nearly closing around it.

Thankfully, Sage narrowly missed her, left behind while staring at her as she flailed for the nearest branch, catching herself with willowy arms with a force strong enough to pop them from their sockets. Her biceps shrieked in pain as she held herself up, trying to catch her breath. The males slowed their pace and both looked at one another in question. Finally, Sage and Quill ambled forward, beginning to approach the femme who was now stranded out on a limb like a dangling kitten. Taking the lead, the brown and auburn chimp ventured forward and placed a hand on the branch a hair's length away from where she hung.

Krissa's eyes flashed and anger grew hot in her chest. "Don't," she threatened, her voice low. The male paused and eyed her, but then stepped closer. The branch trembled, it's leaves shaking. Her ire began to simmer into fear, a cold drop creeping down her spine. Refusing to back down though, she bared her teeth. "Quill, _fuck_ off!"

Sage snickered. "Break it," he sneered, encouraging his younger companion.

Her gut plunged and then flipped. Krissa met Sage's emerald eyes and then narrowed her own keen set. " _You sonova_ -" she began to mumble, only to feel the branch give way as it began to creak and bend beneath her fingers. Quill slowly pressed all his weight down, and it was in that moment that she saw some sort of bloodthirsty glint behind their simian simpers. Before she could protest, the branch snapped and she was falling. Krissa quickly hit the ground, falling perhaps four feet or so. The wind was knocked out of her and she felt as if her stomach had been launched up into her ribs, her organs cramped in together. The impact rocked through her system, and for a moment she struggled to breathe, but her struggles quickly ended. Quill's body collided with the earth like a missile, rising to full height over her and letting out a pant-bark, his teeth flashing. Krissa's anger returned for a moment, and at first she considered rising and meeting his height, but the young woman faltered as their eyes met and she choked. Her entire body seized up and Krissa lost feeling in her legs, her adrenaline kicking her in the ass.

Quill let out a shrill in order to scare her further, only for the girl to let out her own hoarse scream in an attempt to assert at least _some_ sort of dominance. To Krissa's surprise, the chimpanzee flinched and fell back onto all fours. Had she just frightened him? Quill's eyes slowly climbed and she felt a fuzzy belly against the back of her head. Tilting her crown upward, her eyes met Cornelius's royal set. Her chin fell and she caught sight of Quill as he bowed his head, his violent demeanor vanishing before his prince. He had been caught in the act and offered his hand like a pitiful child, attempting to apologize for his behavior. Although she had just experienced a moment of gratifying fear, Krissa pressed back against Cornelius and slowly came to a kneeling position, her own head ducking in submission as well. It wasn't until Cornelius passed his hand over Quill's four digits and nubby pinky that she felt her body loosen up. The young woman looked up through her dark lashes at the fallen tree, but found that Sage had evacuated long before Cornelius had blessed them with his powerful presence. What a coward. Her lip curled. Was she any better?

Any _braver_?

Krissa was snapped from her self-pity by the prince's coriaceous hand. It wrapped itself around her upper arm, fingertips pressing into her moist caramel skin. He slowly hoisted her to her feet, his gaunt face smeared in chalky white war paint, a fork of violet between his brows. Her face was placid at first, but then took on a look of deep concern. Sliding her limb from his grasp, she reached up and brushed hair from her face, feeling the sticky mess as it plastered to her head. It was so humid out, even after such a nasty storm. ' **Need to defend yourself** ,' Cornelius insisted. His lips curled further downward. ' **Need to stand up for yourself**.'

Her heart dropped. ' **I know** ,' she replied, looking away in shame. Her brows knit. ' **I've tried**.'

' **You stopped** ,' he pointed out. ' **Froze**.' She shut her eyes tightly. Had he been watching? Reaching up, she wrapped her arms around herself, refusing to meet his gaze.

"How much did you see?"

"Enough," Cornelius responded. Her eyes slowly drifted to his. They conveyed something that she couldn't quite understand. They held each other's eyes for a while until they both let out a heavy sigh. "You are ape."

Nodding her head, she grew slightly more confident. ' **Apes together, strong**.'

' **Apes together, strong** ,' Cornelius echoed, mirroring her movements. A faint smile laced his lips and Krissa felt as if the heavy aura of prince and subject had lifted. Reaching out, the young woman placed a gentle hand upon Cornelius's shoulder, and to her surprise, he leaned into it. The male shuffled closer and ran a hand over her own, before allowing it to glide upward with a firm clutch of his apeish digits. Her chest swelled and she smiled as he gave her a playful push, braying softly. She hadn't exactly expected it to be Cornelius to be the one to come to her aid, but she was thankful.

Breaking away from the prince, she felt his fingers trail along her elbow in order to grab her attention. "Now get back.. to work," he scoffed, amused.

She just about laughed, but stifled it well. "Yes, your _Highness_." Krissa curtsied in a silly fashion. Turning, she stiffly began to travel back toward the tree's leaning body, examining how it had disturbed the earth where it had fallen. Sighing heavily, she caught the eyes of curious onlookers, the apes having taken a gander at their prince and the drama below. It was evident that they held guilty consciences though, seeing as they immediately turned away upon discovery. Krissa simpered. She had to admit, she was glad to have Cornelius as an ally. It certainly made her feel more secure, thinking of this as she worked away and tried to ignore the ache in her back from the fall. It didn't hurt to have royalty on your side, did it?

* * *

There was something carnal in the air that night. Something animalistic and primitive. Another storm was coming, heat lightning off in the distance, the air heavy with humidity. Nocturnal hunts were considered to be more risky, seeing as many animals roamed at this time, the vast majority of creatures on that list being predators. Slate had all but lost himself in the fermented fruit they ate, the taste strong and brisk on the tongue, yet nonetheless welcome. His heart beat slow in his chest, falling into rhythm of the drums; their pounding thrummed through every vein, every nerve, bringing him down to earth and grounding him. His eyes would occasionally drift off toward that towering archway of pines, wondering when they would back. Minutes had turned into hours; one piece of fruit had turned into four. He was beginning to feel as if her were jelly within his skin, his head reeling and his vision delayed whenever he'd turn.

Hoisting himself to all fours, the male knuckles his way off down the slope, heading in the direction of his home. Slate, in the middle of his wandering, staggered to a stop. The dream. His hand graced to his throat, still intact, thankfully. The smell of musk filled his nose and he felt movement. The chinobo's head turned so quickly that it audibly cracked along the joints.

A _ghost_ , perhaps? He mused at the idea.

How could Koba possibly be alive? How could his spirit be with him still?

 _That's just it_ , a tiny voice whispered hoarsely. _He's always with you, just like Caesar is with Cornelius._

Slate shifted uncomfortably. The voice hadn't been there in months. His father was long gone-

 _He still lives in Pine._

\- he was long dead.

 _He lives in you._

Reaching up, his fingers gripped the back of his head and he snarled. There was so much going on in his head suddenly and in the heat lightning he could see freckles and endless auburn hair and the harvest moon and the lazy summer breeze and the smell of blood, the _taste_ -

 ** _ʎon ʇɥınʞ ʎon ɔɐn ƃǝʇ ɹıd oɟ ɯǝ?_** _Slate_...

"Slate," the voice said. "Are you okay?"

Slate felt as if he had just been sucked back into his body, bringing his head up to lock eyes with his rather apprehensive sister. Her ashen pools were wide with confusion, head slightly tilted and her lips pinched. At first there was nothing but open air that trembled between the two, but soon his sister took a step closer to him. ' **You left** ,' she explained softly, clearly a bit nervous. A soft drawl left her lips, the apeish sound bringing the confused male a bit of whatever comfort he could possibly receive in this moment. The tension wavered and his lips parted. ' **Wondered if you were going to sleep**.'

There was an awkward pause. Slate tilted his head a bit lower and his shoulders hunched. Settled back upon his haunches with a huff, he blinked furiously and then brought a hand to his brow. Poppy edged closer as he began to search for a reason as to why he was down there. Why? He couldn't just explain that he was having a drunken mental breakdown. How was he supposed to word this? ' **My spear** ,' he began. ' **Was looking for my spear. Wanted to bring it with me... helps me walk when I'm.. like this**.'

Poppy's eyes graced over his muscular frame. Reaching out, she took his wrist and rose, pulling him off toward their shared hut. Slate rubbed at her paw, but did not try and pry her off. His lazy lungs billowed shallowly, his warm limbs feeling a tad bit heavy. There was a serene quiet between the two- unspoken words being so reassuring in a moment such as this. Poppy understood... she always understood. They came to the mouth of the hut and she retrieved their father's weapon, handing it over to her brother without a second though. A faint smile came to her lips as she reached up and brushed his brow, earning a grunt of irritation. The two then traveled up the side of the hill, his younger twin pausing as another flash of hot purple sheet-lightning reached it's clawing hand across the sky. They were lit up in the light, their fur rising on end from the electricity. Just as soon as they had returned to the comforting warmth of the towering hearths, the horns sounded and the sentries gibbered from up in the trees.

Slate's head rose among the ranks, all preparing to greet the hunting party with eager flashes of their teeth and hoots of excitement. Ilam entered first, then Cornelius, Rocket, Sage, Marshall. The strongest of the group entered carrying their strings of fish and the autumn-painted coats of their prized foxes. Furs were beginning to become more valuable, seeing as the winder would surely come in like a lion. Being near such a large body of water surely did not help their case. The wracks carried upon their backs were set down and unfurled. Several apes moved to assist, and that was when he laid eyes upon her as she was emerging next to his adopted sibling, Salt.

Her hair was wild and untamed in all it's raven curls, her eyes visibly gleaming hard jasmine from even where he sat. Her caramel skin was garnished and painted with the traditional warpaint, her collarbones and the peaks of her breasts decorated just the same. He still remembered watching Cornelius closely, eyeing him as he watched how low his hands graced. He recalled how proud she had been to be going alone, how resilient she had been, how fresh and alive. There she stood, perched atop the shelf of rock at the edge of camp, looking out across the blazing infernos that reached up to the gathering storm clouds. It felt like some weird dream as he approached her through the thick haze in front of him, moving through what felt like soup in order to get to her. Her eyes met his, and instantly, one of the great bonfires popped, spitting embers up into the air that danced and spiraled like that of a group of excited fireflies.

A smile laced her lips and he offered a hand, which she gratefully took. This spirit of the woods, this nymph, stepped delicately onto the ground before him. He guided her around him and allowed her to pass, feeling how her fingers lingered upon his dark hair. Slate breathed deeply and followed after, knuckling at her side as she moved swiftly through the apes. Krissa's body was adorning one of her simple black bras and a long flowing skirt; it proved perfect for her to move around in, whilst keeping herself covered enough to withstand the cool yet sticky autumn air. This evening, the air proved to be particularly murky.

"You are very quiet," she remarked softly, glancing over her shoulder at him. As they approached the fireside where Poppy was situated, she began to remove her quiver from her shoulders, ducking her head under the strap. "Been enjoying yourself?"

He shrugged a massive shoulder and then came to sit down next to her. ' **Been waiting for you** ,' he corrected, then he faltered. Krissa let out a tiny snicker of amusement, which caused his ears to heat up. Averting his gaze, he tried to ignore his momentary loss of filter. Great, now she wouldn't let that go for another month or so. " _Awe_ , you missed me Slate?"

He huffed indignantly and turned his head in her direction. "The hunt, how did it.. go?" he spoke, words coated multiple sets of blunt-ended daggers.

With a roll of her eyes, Krissa silently agreed to the change of subject. "It was great, and, I didn't scrape myself up this time." Reaching up with a graceful hand, she pushed her hair out of her chalky-stained skin. A smile laced her supple lips. "Ilam helped me out, just as you said."

' **Did you run into any problems**?' he asked, now admittedly curious. Poppy had risen and exited at this point, off to do who knows what.

"Well," she began softly. Her hands rose and he brought his attention down to them. ' **We found a few snakes out in the brush, but nothing too serious. I stayed away**.' Krissa had been known to pick insects and snakes up, seeing as she had always had a mild curiosity toward them. He'd never forget the day when the girl had called him while they were weaving baskets and she had raised the long banded and brightly-colored snake up with a huge smile, just about stopping his heart. She could have easily mistaken it for a milk snake.

The male grunted and his lips flattened into a tight line. Tighter than before. ' **Did you touch any**?'

She shook her head. Poppy returned with a yeep of greeting, a small clay bowl within her hand, along with some woven cloth. The material was made from deer hide, unstained and pure in order to assist in absorbation. When wet, the cloth became supple and worked as a cleaning assistant. The chinobo tilted his head curiously as his sister set the dish between the two. He just caught her eyes then as she retreated, shooting her a rather dubious look. Krissa sighed and then reached down, and in that moment, Slate turned his head and extended one of his long hands. The chinobo just managed to snatch hold of the cloth before she could, earning a soft tsk from her.

She could get as upset as she'd like. He wasn't going to let her exhaust herself further. It was reasonable. Right?

Bringing the cloth up to her face, he brushed the moist material over her cheeks, watching as the paint smeared at first, only to slowly but surely disappear, leaving behind her creamy honeyed-brown complexion. Slate felt his throat tighten as her eyes fluttered open, meeting his eyes. Realizing that he had been caught staring, he pursed his lips and scraped a bit hard, causing her to let out a grunt of annoyance. She wriggled. ' **Stop** ,' he signed, scolding her for moving.

The ravenette let out a soft laugh. Slate brayed and extended his free appendage, he snatched hold of her hair. At first she squealed in protest, but as he pulled her closer to his face, she met his gaze with her own set of challenging depths. "Stop acting like .. an impatient child!" he growled, throaty voice low.

Her eyes rolled. "Yes, _dad_!" she drawled sarcastically in reply. The ape then released her, proceeding to wash her clean of the milky smears upon her flesh.

Once they were finished struggling through Krissa's little clean-up, they turned their attention to the drummers that were beginning to take their places. Massive make-shift war drums were stretched taught with cured hide, their concussive sound enough to give someone whiplash. Slate felt the young woman shuffle where she was settled, her chartreuse pools reflecting the fire's light. The food was being passed out now, the warmth of the moment infecting everyone in it's path. The storm was growing somewhat louder at this point, the lightning visibly crawling across the inky clouds overhead.

The drumming began, the beat resonating through each and every one of Slate's bones. His skeleton was rattling within its hot flesh incasing, his hair ruffling in the sticky autumn breeze. Time stood still and suddenly he was only focused upon the large, sinewy arms of his fellow colony members bringing the thick drumsticks of oak down upon the treated elk skin. Mosquitos did not bother him, the wind stirring the crackling fire nothing but a whisper within his ears.

Krissa stood up. Her lips moved, yet no sound filled his ears. The ravenette's hand found his wrist and he was pulled to his feet. She lead him forward, guiding him toward the center of the village, within the ring of fire. It wasn't until he heard the sound of his tribemates over the drums that he came to understand what exactly was taking place. _Story-telling_.

It had never been his favorite, and thus the bulky outcross screwed up his face. Slate moved to make a quick exit, only to find that he was facing Nova, the girl holding a pot of warpaint. He grimaced. This couldn't be happening...

Krissa caught his glance and beamed. Okay, maybe it _was_.

The drums died slowly to a small and steady pulse of sound. Turning himself, he at first wondered what he could say that could possibly excuse him from the little play about to take place. Just as he tried to pull away from Nova's hands, his eyes found Krissa. His attempted wash-up had been sullied as an orangutan female decorated her face for the part she was to play, which frustrated him slightly. Perhaps he should have just left it in the first place..

Then it was his turn. Slate could tell just what was being smeared onto him, yet he stopped the young girl before she could finish the right half of his face. The lightning flashed. The two tribe members parted from them, leaving nothing but the static between the two of them to tell the story.

At first he was stiff and uncomfortable, even as Krissa seemed to fall easily into her roll. He recalled the day he had watched her prancing along her log so long ago, and how marvelous yet strange it had been to watch. As Slate watched her, standing rigid, he couldn't help but watch as the story unfolded.

All eyes were upon them. Krissa took a deep breath and began to speak, voice breaking through the silence and rising in volume in order to assert herself.

" _Our story begins with the huntress. She was a beautiful and lithe creature, flexible and persistent with a heart of fire. Nonetheless, she had little to her name, her furs tarnished and ragged_." Krissa made a display of herself, drawing her bow and aiming for the closest tree. Her arrow was let loose and made it's mark. " _She was skilled in bow and blade, her reflexes impeccable and her knowledge of the woods unending. She ruled over vast landscapes of pine and oak. She had many subjects that she protected, and in turn, they protected her. For years, her youth unbroken by time, she lived along these lands, unmatched in strength, wit and determination. Her only trouble? She was alone, and being alone can be deadly._ "

" _It was a storm; one she had never seen before in a long time. The hunt she was leading was proving difficult, seeing as how she struggled to bring herself to following a proper set of tracks in the rain_." As if understanding her cue, one of the apes stepped out into the ring, a massive elk skull placed over it's head, his hands holding it up by it's hulking antlers. The bone was marked with charcoal and flaming ore, the enamel branching from it's crown adorning great emerald vines. He let out an inhumane shriek and pawed at the ground with his left foot. Krissa grinned and Slate couldn't help but let out a soft hoot as he saw that spark of fire behind her eyes. " _Finally, after what felt days of tracking and evident failure, she found herself face-to-face with the beast she so gruelingly followed!_ " Crouching, the young woman drew her weapon, her shoulders flexing as she prepared to fire. "She fired-" The arrow flew, speeding directly over the heads of many apes, including that of her supposed target. "- _but missed the beast, it's burning eyes having instilled a fear in her so deep, that it had sunken straight into her bones. The animal, with a great bellow, charged forth_!"

Another bray escaped the ape-elk hybrid, smoke steaming from it's nostrils where the ape exhaled into the chilly night air. With another paw of it's forefoot, the bipedal ape bowled forward, bowing it's enormous rack and preparing to gore Krissa open. The apes observing let out a cry of protest, slapping their hands on the ground or balling their fists and thrusting them up into the air. Thunder growled overhead. Once within distance, the ape bucked it's head up, the young woman hopped, and his massive hands scooped her up into the air. Gracefully, the male beneath ducked his crown, allowing the ravenette to tumble over his back and down onto the ground, where she lay still. Something deep within Slate's chest caused his fingers to ball up into clenched shells, and as the beast turned itself back to inspect the body, he let out a mighty shrill. His pant-hoot broke through the clearing and he raised his father's weapon, the elk turning it's attention toward it's purser. Koba's teeth flashed in the lightning that split overhead, her fur rising instinctively with the burst of testosterone through his entire muscular physique. The apes surrounding let out encouraging hoots.

The beast bowed in submission, but the simian did not allow it to escape. He plunged his spear into the earth beside the mimicker, and the ape, in turn, collapsed onto his side. After slipping from his heavy mask, Rocket disappeared back up into the ranks, leaving the scene to continue to unfold before the colony without interruption. Unbeknownst to Slate, it was Nic who continued the story from where he sat off a ways. " _At first he inspected the corpse, searching for the juiciest piece to take back home to his tribe along the water, but then he spotted a delicate hand, and a shining set of bracelets_." As Slate ducked down, he mockingly ran a hand over the air, only for his attention to be " _caught_ " by the female laying in a heap off upon the shale beside him. She looked peaceful and sweet, laying there while gripping his waist. " _The woman was something he had never seen before, yet he had heard of her presence rumored among his clan. She was fair and delicate; something odd for this part of the woods. How could something so frail live in such a harsh environment on her own? His curiosity getting the best of him, he picked the female up, and_ -" Slate couldn't miss the smirk cracking across her lips as he scooped her up in his arms.

At least _she_ was having fun. "- _he carried her all the way home, back to the waterfall and the cavern. The king took her to his fortress, and allowed her to rest in his bed of moss and down. That night, he slept in the trees_."

Krissa was laid gently down and enveloped in nothing but an imaginary blanket. She then continued the story once more. " _Her wounds were treated while she was unconscious. She slept for hours, only waking up in the middle of the afternoon_." Slowly, she rose to gazed around, a confused look upon her face. Slate sat off a ways, waiting to enter once more. He was becoming enthralled in the moment, the part he was playing becoming something that felt natural. Natural, can you believe it? " _It wasn't until she realized what had happened that she began to quickly gather her things. Her bow was neatly set at her side, her bare arm bandaged with leaves and twine. She scrambled to her feet and grabbed her bow, racing for the exit, when_ -"

Slate stood and cleared the distance between the two, coming to stand inches away from her. She looked deep into his cognac pools, and for a moment the ape's breath hitched, yet he proceeded to keep up with his stone-faced facade. As she continued to speak, her breath stirred across his cheeks. "- _the king stopped her dead in her tracks. He glared down at her with his burning eyes, her stubborn pride refusing to let her bow to his steely gaze. 'You are the one that helped me?' she asked him. He replied_ ,"

"Yes," he articulated. He then brushed past her, spear in hand. "You were out in the.. middle of the woods." He turned his eyes over and looked upon her with a vile expression. ' **You could have made a meal for any passing predator**.'

"Then why not _leave_ me?" she demanded. " _The huntress had heard of this ape king. He had been known to rule ruthlessly and take what he wanted whenever he liked. The king hovered and hesitated. Why had he saved her?_ "

His eyes graced over her lean figure. He took a step forward and sauntered over to her. Casting a hand beneath her chin, he gripped her jaw tightly in his hand. Krissa's words died in her throat. A wicked grin cracked across his lips. "I.. am interested in you," he replied cynically. His eyes were two malicious stones of amber, gleaming with something deeply rooted. Releasing her maxilla from his grasp, he began to stalk around her, examining her every bone. ' **I have been since I found you** ,' he signed, proceeding to explain himself. Their eye-contact returned, her olive optics swimming within his whiskey depths. ' **There's something about you**.'

Krissa seemed stunned at this point. Slate's toothy grin only widened. A grunt or two escaped the crowd, but otherwise all that filled the gap was the wind in the trees and the crashes of thunder overhead. Clearing her throat, she finally collected herself. " _The king was a particular male, a fan of collecting pretty things and keeping them as his own. The huntress though, had caught his attention in a most peculiar way. He had never owned another living being before... but this was a start. She was becoming angry._ "

"You plan on keeping me here? Like a _pet_?"

"More than just that," he mused, turning and heading for the exit of the cavern.

"You cannot!"

The ape king turned toward his newly-found possession. ' **But I will**!' he signed. ' **You are mine now, and you will stay that way. Now do as I say and get some rest**.'

The story continued on from that point, the constant battle between the two giving away hidden tension between them. It was obvious to those surrounding, who whispered or signed back and forth, wondering what exactly would happen. At one point, the king and she were in the middle of a heated battle, when suddenly his hand came to her throat, earning a squeak from the girl. A voice cried from the crowd in protest, yet he held her tightly, backing her up. Their mouths were inches from one another, Krissa's eyes genuinely filling with confusion and faint flecks of fear. Slate was quickly drawn out of the moment when she breathed his name. His demeanor softened and he released her. The young woman's hand came to her throat where the ghost of his still remained.

" _Turning away, the king seemed defeated. They had fought so many other times, so why now was he beginning to go easy on her. Perhaps it had been the pleading in her eyes, or perhaps some simple strange change of heart. The huntress did not know. Shaken, she took to shelter within the king's cave, hoping he would not return that evening and sleep out under the stars_..." Krissa rose and turned herself away, retreating toward the massive fallen tree that ran itself along the edge of camp.

As the evening grew older, the story became more intense: the rescue of a young child, the ceremony of her welcome into the clan, the intense dance between the two by the hearth-side. Slate had been unable to take his eyes off her, their bodies coming the closest they had ever come to meeting. They mirrored one another, their hands touching as they gracefully moved in a circle, pinwheeling around one another. She spun and hopped, her smile never ceasing; he in turn became an exact reflection, matching her movements with his own. They danced like the wind and the river, the sky and clouds. Finally, the sizzling heat between them ceased as they pulled away, the war drums coming to a stop.

A battle played out, long and hot, and within the final moments, they were both struck down. The huntress had thrown herself in front of a rival tribe's spear, the weapon having sliced clean through both of them and joining their bodies together. As their physiques collided, Slate caught her and they plunged to the ground, landing with a hard thud. " _Gazing into one another's eyes, they took their final breaths... and ceased to move, joining their ancestors in the beyond_."

There was a heavy reticence, the rumble of thunder faint yet nonetheless present, as if the clouds above were holding their breath. Slate could feel how her heart hammered against him, their bodies sweltering from the exertion of reenacting such a long and treacherous tale. The throng of onlookers suddenly rose and exploded into enthusiastic cries and wails, all elated by the ending of such an incredible story. The sound brought the pair of actors' heads up to full attention, their eyes meeting in surprise, and then finally with pride. Krissa's left arm had entwined itself with his own, her fingers pressing gently into his upper limb. After a few moments of exchanging small smiles, the ravenette hoisted herself up. Slate followed not far behind, the two rising to their feet.

The chinobo let out an illustrious pant-bark and the two brought their arms high above their heads. To his surprise, Krissa celebrated with own caterwaul of triumph, drawing his attention over in her direction. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her body gleaming with a thin sheen of sweat. Their fingers remained laced together for a moment longer and Slate relished in the lingering sensation.

Then she released and they fell away from one another.


	19. The Wound (XVIII)

Choking. That's what he could hear when he woke up.

The sound of someone with a peach-pit stuck inside their throat.

A croak, a faint voice pleading for help.

Slate turned over in his sleep, so fast that he nearly threw himself from his nest. His eyes fell upon a shape looming over his sister's nest and his heart sang. The figure's head snapped around, its eyes two balls of white light as they reflected the great flashes of lightning outside. At first Slate's exhausted, sleep-filled amber stones recognized the figure as the monster he feared would return.

The fall hadn't been enough. Nothing would be enough.

Eyes shooting toward his weapon, he lunged for it just as the figure wheeled around and raced for the entrance of the hut. A pant-shrill escaped him, repeating itself several times as he scrambled to his feet and clamored after the escaping culprit. His knuckles smeared through the crimson pooling on the floor yet he ignored it, the burning rage turning to an immaculate inferno within his lungs, hotter than the very forks of electricity that split across the sky.

Once outside, the freezing cold rain hissed against his body, the wind whipping his coat in all directions. In the dark, he could make out the hunched over shape of another ape, as well as the culprit seeming to gently console her. Slate bellowed, their heads turned, and the fiend's frame straightened. Bolting forward, the hunched shape let out a yip of protest, moving out of the way of the scuffle and watching with horror. Their bodies collided with the force of a freight train and suddenly he was face to face in the mud with his brother, the hot spray of blood still upon his marred face. His milky eye stared with little emotion, his bared teeth gleaming yellow in the storm's flashes.

The air caught within his throat. He released Pine as if he were on fire and had singed his palms and fingers. " _You_... you _coward_ ," he breathed. "What have you.. done?! WHAT.. _HAVE ..YOU_ -"

" _She had it coming_ ," Pine hissed. The warrior's heart dropped into his gut and he stumbled back. One.. two.. three steps. He turned on Poppy: his sister was looking upon the two with gleaming eyes, filled with guilt and sorrow. No amount of apology could possibly make up for what had just happened.

Four, five six- Slate stumbled and dropped Koba's weapon-

Seveneightnightten _eleventwelvethirteen_ -

" _KRISSA_!" Apes were audibly beginning to wake up, confused and alarmed by the sudden disturbance. The outcross burst back into his family hut, the harsh tang of coppery blood filling his nose. He dove for Poppy's nest and his hands met the ravenette's trembling arms, bowed at the elbows as she gripped at

her gaping

throat.

" _Sl-ate_ -" she gasped. " _I- can't_ -"

Slate brought his hands to her slender neck and felt the hot blood spill out onto his fingers. All he could feel was red, all he could taste was red, and as the lightning flashed, all he could _see_ was _red_.

"Kris! _Kris_!" he shouted. What was he supposed to do? Let go, go get help? Keep holding her? He continued to apply pressure. His head turned to gaze over his shoulder, eyes wild. She sputtered, a fine spray of something wet hitting his cheeks. His voice rose high above the crackle of the storm, screaming at the top of his lungs out into the night.

The blood just kept _coming_. Her hands clawed at his shoulders and flanks, desperate for help. Desperate for air.

He heard the approach of fellow colony members, yet couldn't fight the ill churning within his gut. Nic was the first one inside, his hands upon his shoulders as he leaned over her body. Too hollow to fight back, he allowed the human male to remove his shirt and quickly apply it to her throat. All he could hear between his ears now was the steady thud of his heart, similar to that of a tom-tom. With each beat, it grew louder.

Slate raised his hands and stared at them in the purple light, each flash in the raging sky illuminating the thick dark liquid on his leathery skin.

This was Krissa's blood.

Her life.

Spilling out of her body. _Killing_ her.


	20. The Map (XIX)

' **Did you hear me**?' Sparrow signed. Slate sat in the medicine tree's main room and staring blankly at the ground. His eyes drifted downward. His hands- his hands were sticky, the skin coated thoroughly with tacky claret. One could only compare it to a thick molasses-like syrup. The color of death. The chinobo's eyes slowly roamed upward, meeting Sparrow's small features. Her face was taut with concern, emerald pools soft for the first time in a while. Everything outside was still dripping, the leftover beads of moisture from the storm the night before showering the top of the fan-tree's ceiling each time the wind stirred its branches. Somewhere off in the distance, a lone cardinal chipped harshly out into the early dawn.

The female chimp grunted, attempting to draw him back out of his state of shock. ' **We managed to stop the bleeding**.' Slate felt his body give no changes, no response. He simply allowed his lips to part and he continued to look up at her, stupefied. One of the elder simian's fingers curled and graced along the edge of his face, which in turn the chinobo shied away from, uncomfortable with the contact. He could feel his throat beginning to tighten, eyes beginning to burn and grow moist. Slate's insides were reacting in a manner that he could not control. Why was he getting so emotional? Halfheartedly, he reached up and brushed her grasp away from his face. He didn't like being touched in the first place, so why did Sparrow feel the need to bother him with her grimy fingers? Slate's belly stirred and became sour.

The male's eyes returned to the floor, then followed up to her grey hands. ' **How**... **how is she**?' he signed, his movements aloof.

Sparrow shifted in the blue light of morning. ' **She has lost a lot of blood. We don't know whether she'll make it through today**.'

His chest tightened and his eyes squeezed shut. Respiration hitching in his chest, he finally brought his attention up to the shaman. Slate's heart fluttered. "Can I-"

' **See her**?' she signed, easily predicting his next question and finishing his sentence. The outcross dipped his head in confirmation. Sparrow could see right through any soul with those piercing oculars of her's. It was no wonder that her children had grown up to be so observant. Shifting where he sat, he allowed the chimp to reach for his wrists and haul him to his feet. Swaying with his ape-limp, he followed after the shaman in silence, being taken into a rather small compartment in the back of the tree. It was dimly-lit, lichen having been placed over the the entrance to keep it cool and still. Slowly, he allowed his eyes to fall upon her sleeping form. Her face was pale, dark lashes motionless as she did not dream. Her slender neck was swaddled in lamb's ear, the wound thankfully sealed and the blood-flow ceasing. The acrid smell of copper filled his nose and his belly turned. This was nothing like the evening after Twig's death. Slate's large chest ached and he could hardly move his body, as if his joints were seizing up with each little twitch of his bones. His long fingers curled inward, nails digging deep into his palm, leaving shallow divots in the flesh. The warrior's head turned to look upon the smaller body beside him. She swayed. ' **I'll leave you be for a while**...' she suggested, then took her leave, the dangling shield swaying out behind her.

Moving closer, the male looked around the room, spotting something odd leaning up against the wall. He recognized it as the human. Nic was leaning back, his arms crossed over his bare form, bloodied garments in his lap. The man's eyes were shut, similar in stature to the ravenette, in a dreamless daze of black. He couldn't help but feel his lip curl slightly at the sight of him. Quietly, Slate returned his attention back to Krissa's stagnant form, he pushed through the invisible barrier he had set and crossed the short distance between them, coming to all fours at her bed-side. At first he hesitated, watching her chest rise and fall ever so slowly. Her breathing was shallow. Finally, Slate slipped his hand up to her cheek, his body rising ever so slightly so he could hover over her. Guilt washed over him as his eyes explored the stains on her lips, listening to her raspy breaths of oxygen as they passed through her windpipe. His disgrace grew and grew. He had become too comfortable and too trusting of others; if he had been more diligent, more aware of his brother and others, perhaps he would have caught him in the act. Perhaps he could have killed Pine before this had happened.

Perhaps he should have done so a long time ago...

"In our... _blood_?" maundered thickly, recalling his brother's callous words. "To kill those we.. ?" Slate felt his voice break in his throat, unable to form that final word on his tongue. He gently laced his hand with her's, feeling that familiar sensation once more, just as he had the evening before. His throat ached and he clenched his sharp teeth, bowing his pate and resting his brow against the back of her dainty limb. Her hands felt so cool against his warm face. The reticence that filled the small hollow was deafening. Slate allowed his snout to drag along the smooth surface of Krissa's extremity, amber eyes returning to her unconscious body.

Why couldn't it have been him?

"Your sister didn't even try t' help her," Nic suddenly whispered. Whiskey depths flashing, he brought his head up slowly and allowed it to turn with a look of malice upon his face. The human stared at him with a placid expression. "I'm right, aren't I?"

The chinobo recalled how his sister has simply stared. She hadn't been inside the hut.. no, she had been outside, cowering in the mud and rain as if she were trying to ignore what was happening. Somehow she had known that this would happen. He turned his moist gaze away from the human. There was a heavy bout of silence once more, weighing down upon their shoulders. "She could be gone by tonight..." the human added, sitting up and hoisting himself to his feet. Slate stiffened again at the sound of his voice. He didn't want to think about that right now... but he was entirely correct. Nic approached on unsure legs and then came to stand next to where Slate sat, head bowed at her side. He hovered, then knelt down. The ape felt a hand upon his back and began to bristle.

"Let me take her.." Nic's words rocked through him. What was he implying? There was something desperate behind the tone he held. Their eyes met. Something in those strange depths he found something he could relate to. Breaking away from the male, he rose to stand upon his short hind legs. Slate shook his head. "I'll talk to Cornelius.. there are others: we have a doctor, medicine, shelter. We can try and save her."

" _Others_?" he hissed, narrowing his eyes.

Nic visibly swallowed, raising his hands. "Y- _Yeah_. We've gotta place across the lake, on an island. Boats travel back n' forth... it's how we got here. We were lookin' for supplies n' stuff," he continued, voice cracking slightly. It was quite clear that after seeing the battle between Pine and he that Nic was intimidated. It had been obvious since the beginning. "We could save her. C'mon, let me help her, man. _Please_."

 _Save_ her? By taking her from her _home_? Slate remained silent, biting his tongue. Gaze falling to her ashen face, he took a deep breath and then exhaled, long and slow. The wind outside buffeted the great redwood, causing it to sway, the branches creaking in complaint and the candles flickering visibly in the next room. The silence seemed to be growing heavier and heavier the more time drew out. Slate's eyes caressed her cheekbones and her parted lips, listening to how the breath rattled in her throat. He felt that dull ache in his chest once more. He had two options: keep her here where he could be by her side and possibly lose her by sundown, or give her up and let her own kind help her as best they could. His face fell for a moment, looking to the ground.

"You're gonna have to trust me sooner or later," Nic appealed, drawing Slate's gaze to his own once again. The human's voice had become croaky and thick within his throat. It wasn't something he was used to hearing from him. Perhaps it was effecting the human just as badly. Nic paused. "Why not start now?"

Slate huffed and held his solemn leer with heavy scrutiny. His lips parted and he was just about to answer the male, when suddenly Krissa's body convulsed, a moist and phlegmy cough escaping her. Her eyes peeled open, glossy and greyish in the dim light. The ape felt his heart leap and came to his knuckles beside her, a hand brushing her damp tangles of raven from her brow. She was cold to the touch. Her lips stirred, as if trying to speak, but no sound came out. There was a simple wheeze of air that whistled through her cracked maw. Panic vaguely washed over her features before her head fell once again, eyes gaping at him. A bray of agony trembled from his throat as he watched Krissa slowly drift back into her coma, all recognition disappearing, her moment of consciousness terribly short-lived. Her eyes drooped and Slate slumped against the next in defeat, pressing his brow to her own.

His heart thrummed. Pine.

 _Badmp-badmmpp_ -

Pine. Sage. Quill. Marshal. Sharp.

She wasn't safe here. Not now.

"Will she ..come back?" he rasped, voice guttural in his throat.

Nic cleared his throat, as if brought out of a daze. "That... that's entirely her decision," he murmured. Beat. The human crossed his arms and passed a hand over his scruffy face. "But yes, she would. I can't keep her away from you guys if that's what she truly wants."

Slate took a deep breath, drinking in her soft and comforting aroma. The scent of earth and pine clung to her like mold, robust and inviting. Bringing his head up, he glared at Nic with exhausted, grieving eyes, and then spoke again. "Go talk to Cornelius."

* * *

As soon as Slate followed Nic out into the open, he paused at the entrance, watching the human plod his way down the ramp. Eventually tearing his amber stones away from where they had been drilling two generous holes in the back his dark head, his cranium tilted and came to fall upon something completely different. In the center of camp, several apes were erecting a large post, heaving it to a standing position with tugging hands. He knew exactly what that was for. Exactly who would be attached. After glowering for a moment further, he squared his shoulders and lowered to all fours, knuckling back down and returning to earth. The journey across the village was quick, Nic easily picking out the ape leader near the building sight, hovered around something and discussing the issue at hand. As the two meandered into view, Maurice was the first to notice their approach, alerting the others with a bubbly sound in his throat. He seemed surprised to see the human and the chinobo side-by-side

Ignoring the simper the old timer gave him, he brought his massive head around to look upon the young prince. Rocket, standing not far off, released the ropes he had been holding in order to assist and called for a break, allowing the males to take a breather while they conversed with the approaching two. The wind stirred their coats, the light rain misty and soothing against his hot skin. The Medicine Tree was a peaceful place that one could easily collect their thoughts in, but when remaining stationary inside for too long, you could be bothered by the warmth of the flickering candles.

' **Slate** ,' Rocket signed, small olive tones flickering from his form to the human male's. The two had fallen into step as they had slowed, not thinking much of it. Rising to his hind legs, he dipped his head to his elder, offering a hand in greeting. Rocket and the alpha both slid their palms over his, which in turn signaled for him to rise from his slightly crouched position.

' **We are calling together a few hunting patrols** ,' Cornelius established, gestures straight-forward. Something behind his emerald eyes burned- it was something he had never witnessed before in those young oculars of his. The chimpanzee pointed a finger toward the sheet of parchment before then, the chicken-scratch bringing back old memories. It was an entire map of their territory, one that they used whenever they would go on scouting missions. The gusts of air buffeting the side of the cliffs rumbled in a low, percussive sound, his eardrums picking it up as something close to mild thunder. The trees swayed and creaked, the stones wet under foot.

Rocket's large head rose, gaze fastening to Slate's long face. ' **I will lead two groups south, to watch the edge of the border in case he tries to escape. Cornelius and you will take the rest of the routes and comb through the woods.** '

So, this was a witch-hunt rather than an actual search party? Unease was absent from his chest and belly. Slate felt nothing, simply hollow- so empty that it ached. He nodded his head, amber gaze turning downward to examine the marks made within the dried leaf. This was going to be a long day, he could tell, but right now they had to focus on the issue at hand. Slate came to sit upon his haunches, knuckles and spear holding up the weight of his front. ' **We treat this like elk**?' he inquired. ' **Large animal, lower tactic, aim for the flanks**?'

Cornelius piped up, grunting and shaking his head. ' **Like a predator**.'

' **You know your brother best** ,' signed Maurice, crown bobbing.

 _Pine is not family,_ the tiny voice whispered.

Of course. Nic shifted uneasily beside him, trying to catch a peak of what exactly they were signing over. He, obviously, was deaf to american sign, which made it even more confusing to the poor human. Slate turned his head and shuffled over, waving a hand for him to join. Nic was hesitant at first, eyeing Cornelius and Rocket, and then Maurice's kind face. After a few seconds of tension, he finally stooped and knelt. Slate gestured to the middle. Jumbled signs that were clear and sensible to the apes were all gibberish to the man, and ergo he grunted hoarsely. "Ape home," he explained. Running his hand down to the left along a jagged line, his index came to the trees. "Sandy hill... cliff-side, winding path.. forest line."

Raising his extremity, he allowed it to drift south-east. "Skinny falls, lots of rocks for him to.. hide in. Could be.. holed up in the cranny behind."

Nic stirred next to him, trying to make sense of it all. "Where Krissa was found?" he mumbled softly. Maurice burbled in confirmation, the group of apes bobbing their heads simultaneously.

Slate rocked from one foot to the other, then continued. His hand glided to the lake, which was fairly obvious. "Lake, could be.. anywhere around there," he guessed. Nose twitching, he took a moment to ponder, then grunted and shook his head. "Would stick.. to heavy cover, like pine groves." The chinobo outcross brought his fingers to hover over the denser woods along the eastern hillside. That was where he would most likely be; it was his favorite place as a child and he would often retreat there if they had ever had a nasty argument.

"Would move further.. out," Cornelius confirmed, head bobbing. ' **Sentries saw him heading east**..'

The outcross twin furrowed his brow. "Did not follow?"

Rocket shook his bulky stone-grey head. ' **Sage was on duty. Ilam tried to convince him to follow, but they all headed for the village instead. He only tracked him so far on his own, but the storm was too heavy and the rain was damaging the tracks**...'

' **He would have started climbing soon anyway.. it would have been easier to get away** ,' he signed. Slate pondered, scrutinizing the parchment splayed out between the group. Nic, clearly lost, was simply looking at the outcross with questioning eyes. ' **If he headed east, he could be far out by now**..'

Maurice brayed. ' **Could he have headed back to the city**?'

' **The city is miles away through the desert** ,' Cornelius countered, head swaying in disagreement. The chocolate-brown pale-face looked between the members of the ape council. Slate and Nic listened closely. ' **He wouldn't last long without water**.'

Finally, Rocket grunted. ' **We'll stick the main group near the heavier woods. Give them bows and arrows... make it easier for distance**.' All agreed, nodding in synchronized formation. The bulky chimp rose to his hind legs, thus inviting the others to join. ' **Will start assigning groups immediately. Painting will be within a shift of a sun, so stay close**.'

Together, the group began to return to their normal duties, dead-set on the task at hand. This would be something they had never done before, and Slate assumed that it would be sloppy. Taking a prisoner of their own kind was far different than when they had strung up Krissa, or even Nic. Cornelius in particular seemed to be under a lot of pressure, which was understandable. It was his job to capture the fiend and give Pine his just deserts for what he had pulled. He had taken his hatred for humans way too far, and at this point, there was no coming back from what had happened. He felt Nic rise, hesitate, and then-

"Cornelius- your- your Highness!" the human suddenly called. With a heavy stone in his belly, he followed after Nic as he suddenly sprung up and scrambled after the prince. The chimp was just heading in the direction of the royal hut, Maurice alongside him, when he stopped in his tracks and turned toward the male. Standing at the prince's height, Nic swallowed and looked at him with wide eyes. "I- I wish to speak with you, er, regarding Krissa."

The prince and his adviser exchanged a glance. ' **Inside** ,' Cornelius ordered.

* * *

Lichen climbed along the ceiling, the scent of moss filling Slate's nostrils as he glanced around. The torchlight was warm against their chilled skin, the group thankful for the protection from the rain. They all sauntered along, dripping and leaving damp footprints along the dry stone as they walked. The dull hush of the heavier droplets pattered along the roof, creating a drowsy miasma within the whole little hut. The prince and his elder came to sit upon the shale floor, Maurice adding to the fire as Cornelius scratched at his ear. Slowly, they came to find their own place around the hearth. "How is she?" Cornelius finally asked, voice low as he addressed such a sensitive issue. His eyes held worry.

Slate felt his throat tighten and shared a knowing look with Nic. Bringing his head down, he looked anywhere but straight toward the younger male. **'Sparrow said she might not last through the day** ,' he answered. There was a heavy, emotional huff that escaped the young king in response, yet there was silence following. Nobody dared to say a word. All was still. Maurice finally let out a solemn burble, shaking his head and slouching further.

The quiet grew deadly. "What.. can we do? There must be something?" Cornelius pondered aloud. Tongue seeming to thicken, the warrior lowered his head and stared at the ground, nose wrinkled and lids heavy.

"That's what we wanted to talk to you about," Nic admitted quietly. Heads rose, yet Slate remained steely, glaring further at the ground. "Back where I lived, there are others."

The word ' _others_ ' hung in the air like a swaying body, strung up and lynched.

"Others?" Cornelius questioned, tone surprisingly light and curious.

"Yeah. We have a doctor and medicine. I was thinkin'- if you'd just think about it- we could bring her to them," the man continued, words bumbling out of his mouth with little finesse. Clearly he was unaware of their formal timbre, but no matter. He would be gone soon. "I can get in contact with them. I have a radio-"

Slate's massive head rose at this, startled by the mention of human technology. How long he been hiding this from them? From Krissa? Had she known of this? He wasn't so sure about this now. What exactly had he agreed to? His fur would have risen if not for it being plastered to his spine and shoulders from the rain. Maurice's hand rose before the outcross could, silencing him. He wanted to hear the man out. Uncomfortable, he remained at his tipping point, the steel grip he had upon his father's weapon enough to strangle a bear. "- and she could come.. back if she.. wanted to," he finished.

Nic swallowed visibly in the crackling light. "Yeah, what he said..."

The prince seemed a bit lost at this point, head tilted and eyes narrowed. Maurice glanced between the three in the room with them, unsure about the slight tension that was introduced into the situation now. Slate was practically on the edge of his seat, apprehensive as to why Cornelius was taking so long to respond. Finally, the young ape took a deep breath and shut his eyes. The fire popped. ' **You agreed to this**?' signed Cornelius, forest gaze latching onto the outcross settled on the other side of the hearth.

' **Yes**... **if this can save her life, I'll let him take her**.'

Nic, confused as always during the use of sign language, sat there patiently. He seemed to be trying to understand, his pate cocked and his nose scrunched up in concentration.

' **And if this is a trap**?' the prince suggested, his teeth peeking out from his lips as he became slightly infuriated by Slate's credulous behavior. However, before the inky male could defend himself, Maurice burbled and placed a hand upon Cornelius's shoulder.

' **It's a risk we have to take**.' The elder paused. ' **She may die before sundown... there's nothing more we can do for her here**.' As always, the orangutan always seemed to have enough wisdom and resolve be able to stop a disagreement in it's tracks, even before it had heated up. Maurice had this sort of... piercing calm to him. He was more in tune with himself than any of the other patriarchs. ' **I know that both of you care deeply for this human girl**.'

He gestured widely, toward both of them. They held their breath as they listened, Nic all the while licking his lips over and over again in thought. He really was hopeless. ' **In order for her to survive, we all have to put our mistrust to bed**.'

Cornelius grunted, cheeks puffing slightly. Ultimately, the chimpanzee turned himself from where he faced his companions, and fastened his eyes upon Nic. The human stirred uncomfortably. "She... comes with you, but comes back. If she wants."

Nodding his head, his brows knit together. "Of course," he agreed.

Crown dipping slightly, the young king examined the man further, the tension began to dissipate. "Call others."


	21. The Look (Chapter XX)

_Three scores. The bark split painfully like skin, the tree's flesh damaged beneath. Sap oozed down its surface in a similar fashion to blood. Slate's hand guided her own to the injured tree's surface. ' **Tell me what it's from**.'_

 _"_ Bobcat _.." she articulated, allowing her digits to run over the reasonably deep gashes. Krissa scrunched up her face. The male grunted gently in his throat. Rain quietly fell around them. ' **Marking its terf, stretching its claws**.'_

 _Slate shifted beside her and nodded his massive head. His hand drew away from her own. ' **What else**?'_

 _Thunder rumbled softly in the clouds above the canopy. The ravenette took a deep breath in, her eyes slowly washing over the surrounding trees. The meadow was rocky and the land uneven, trees blocking out the gunmetal light above. Krissa inhaled deeply, shifting her legs up under herself. "_ A male. He sprayed _.." she trailed, chewing on the inside of her cheek._

 _' **Two days ago- old** ,' the ape answered, finishing her sentence for her. Krissa sighed deeply, wilting slightly. Noticing her dwindling confidence, the chinobo chuffed soothingly. ' **You're learning fast. Just need to focus more.** '_

 _Krissa nodded and nibbled on her bottom lip. Silence fell and she trailed her fingers over the claw marks once again. Her nail began to dig into the soft, spongy bark, deeper and deeper, until she suddenly felt something lodge itself up into her nail bed. Grunting, she drew away quickly, the splinter in her skin throbbing painfully. Having noticed her sudden distress, Slate's hand shot out. The male snatched hold of her wrist and drew it up to his eyes, examining her injured finger. Nostrils flaring, the male let out a huff, which she felt ghost across her chilled cheeks. Instead of scolding her however, he proceeded to remove the short piece of wood that stuck out of her skin. With a toss, the splinter went flying, leaving only a small bead of blood. The pain.. she couldn't feel it. Tilting her head up to his own, their gazes met and the air stirred between the two._

 _His breath was hot on her freckled face._

* * *

 ** _Air_**.

The ravenette attempted to sign someone's name- anybody's name- but somehow muddled her letters, combining both Sparrow and Maurice's name into one incoherent mess. The distinct chemical tang of sanitizer filled her nostrils and pooled in her lungs. The first thing she noticed was the peeling paint on the ceiling. Crisp linen caught her rough, dirty fingers. Krissa's eyes drifted downward to study the surface beneath her touch. Her tanned hands were scuffed up and tacky with crimson, her nails caked in deep red. Initially the ravenette planned to sit up, but as soon as she moved upright, her head ached something awful and she had to lay back down. Krissa's lips parted, but each time she attempted to move her swollen vocal chords, they tightened painfully. Why couldn't she speak? Her neck felt as if she had just fallen upon it several times over, muscles strained and tense. Rolling her head upon it's joint, she could feel something tight restricting her and immediately brought her fingers to the source of her irritation. Thick cotton wrapped around Krissa's slender neck, the gauze creating a barrier between the outside air and the deep laceration left behind by the sharp blade of a spear.

Slowly, she pulled herself forward, carefully resting her back propped up against the goose-down pillow at her back. Krissa's chartreuse eyes washing over her surroundings, taking note of where she was exactly. The walls were covered in parchment wallpaper, decorated with pink and red blossoms with worn green stems, and supple leaves. Yellowed and fragile it was, most likely from years of smoking. That, or simply from age. Her hands drifted out and she ran her nails over its smooth surface. She had almost forgotten what a wall had felt like. Beside her was a table with a kerosene lamp, the smell of its fuel pummelling her senses with its strong perfume. How had she gotten here? What could she remember?

She had been sleeping, that was what Krissa remembered. What else? Her mind strained for anything, yet it was no use. All she could really recall were faint and foggy memories. Krissa had been all but ready to give up on searching for a reason for her to be here, back within a home with four walls, when it all came back in an avalanche of sound and silence: the smell of rain, the rumbling thunder, the hunt. The crackling of fire and the wind pumping in and out of her lungs with the ferocity of a hurricane. The feeling of a warm, large hand enveloping her own. Krissa brought her digits together and pressed them to the bridge of her nose.

At first she had thought it was Slate coming to check on her in her sleep- perhaps she was snoring, perhaps she had been whimpering. Regardless, it hadn't been him. It had been someone smaller- someone with gentle, sad eyes. " _Are.. you sure_?" The words were faint and soft, whistling as they exited Poppy's lips. Krissa's lids had grown heavy, and although it took her a moment to pull herself back to reality, she was quickly awakened by a fervent, screaming pain resonating from her nape- a pain of which she had never felt before in her life. Her hands immediately clawed at the pulsing wound, struggling to keep the endless stream of crimson inside of her severed flesh. Pine's milky eye was next, coming into view, a numb and hollow look upon his face.

The eldest outcross twin seemed to have just finished up something that had long since needed to be done, since the very beginning. Perhaps that was something she had been blind to? Maybe she had never belonged there in the first place. At least, not while she was alive.

Returning to the moment, Krissa hugged herself and shivered. Settled not far from her reach (something she had completely missed until now) was a gleaming glass of water. Her mouth was parched and yet she was almost afraid to attempt to drink anything. Extending a hand, she explored the cool surface of the crystalline cup. It seemed simple and safe enough. Now curious, Krissa brought the rim to her lips and then cautiously tipped it back, taking in a small bit of the liquid inside. She sighed softly. The little droplet she had taken was rain to the dry desert which was her tongue; Krissa immediately abandoned any demure within her conscience and drank greedily, in large gulps, ignoring the way her larynx complained. It felt so _good_. Polishing off the glass, she eased back against the old rickety bedframe and rested her head. The soft tickling of a clock caught her attention.

It was nearly 7:15. Unsure of whether this was morning or evening, Krissa hauled her stiff body up and tried to pull the sheets back. Her strength was severely depleted, given that she had to stop for a moment to catch her breath. Swallowing thickly, she struggled out of the blankets. Only then did she catch sight of the cotton ball taped to her arm. She felt her stomach flip. Somebody had given her blood.

Somebody had saved her life.

Krissa gulped for more air and scrambled - with little finesse- to her feet. Wobbling, she managed to fall into the nearest wall and use it in order to support herself as she plodded forward. The door. She had to get to the door. It took her five steps to close the distance between her and the exit. The handle was cold and foreign to her; after so many years of being outside with natural things, like the feeling of moss or mud. She fought back a shiver and turned the doorknob, opening it carefully without a sound. Quickly she stumbled down the hall, moving as fast as her adrenaline-driven legs could carry her. Her breaths came in unsteady gulps, air wheezing through her windpipe as she struggled just to walk. Rounding the corner, she was just approaching a set of stairs when the floorboards creaked. Krissa turned her wild head of raven to peer over her shoulder.

Her eyes fell upon a woman. She was slender with long brown hair and chocolate skin. "Miss?"

Krissa took a step back, careening toward the staircase and then tripping. The ravenette fell back on her bare behind, the long brown t-shirt flying up. Embarrassed, she quickly scrambled to cover herself. The woman approached slowly, as if coming toward a wild animal, raising her hands. She had to be about Krissa's age, by the look of her. "It's okay... I'm not going to hurt you. I'm Molly, your nurse," the woman eased. "Nic is just downstairs- I can call him if you'd like."

" _Nic_?" she uttered, voice guttural. Pain shot through her throat and she whimpered, hand reaching for her neck. Her hands quickly gestured in frustration, seeing as it was the only way to speak at this moment. ' **It hurts**!'

Molly stopped in her tracks. "You can speak sign language?"

' **Do you know any**?' she asked, suddenly eager. ' **Where am I? How did I get here**?'

The girl stared. Krissa suspected she didn't understand.

Molly's lips parted in an apologetic manner. "Look... I know it's going to be hard to talk, but you'll just have to take it easy for now," Molly suggested, her voice cool and calm. Extending a hand, she offered her a helping extremity. The injured woman glanced between Molly's hand and her oval-shaped face. Her brown eyes were kind. "Don't worry Krissa. I'm just here to help."

After a few moments of hesitation, she finally took her slender hand and allowed her to hoist her to a set of unsteady feed. Molly was shorter than her, standing about at chest-level. Her smile never ceased as she helped her back down to the noxious bedroom. "I know this isn't your home, but it might just have to do for now," the smaller woman assured, helping her rest back upon the bed. Once situated, Molly left her side and moved to open the small window on the wall parallel to the door. "You're lucky that Nic got you here in time." Grunting as she reached up on her tiptoes, she pulled the latch open and cranked the pane inward, the cool morning air filtering in. "You had lost a lot of blood and we were worried that you might be anaemic when you came in."

Taking a deep breath in, she shut her eyes and felt an ache down deep in his chest. She wanted to bury her feet in the earth, but instead all she had was linen. Molly snapped her from her thoughts. The woman planted herself down at her bedside and Krissa drew back from her slightly. The woman's eyes scrutinised her for a moment, washing over her features and exploring them thoroughly, until they rested upon the scar that Slate had left on her cheek.

Molly reached out and rested her fingers there, running them along the length of the shallow mark. "You've been through a lot, huh?" she asked. Drawing back, her hand hovered. "How long were you with them?"

Krissa pursed her lips and shrugged her shoulders. She didn't want to give out any information... their solitude was their best strength when it came to survival, and ergo, it made sense to keep that a secret. Molly hummed softly, brows furrowing deeply. Tilting her chin down, she gave a curious look. "Can you at least tell me whether they talk or not?"

Whether they _talk_? Wasn't it a given? Surely the human colonies knew that they could all speak just as well as a human could. _Well, maybe not as_ fluently _as a human, but_.. Krissa pondered. She swallowed thick in her tender throat and wiggled her shoulders again. How come every other human she met lately asked her about them?

Movement within the doorway caught Krissa's eye and her head turned. Stepping inside were two men: one familiar and one a stranger. The stranger was tall with a partially shaved head of blonde hair. He had a few piercing on his left ear and his eyebrow. The other was Nic. He expressed something close to joy when he saw her, crossing the room and setting down the steaming mug of hot tea at her bedside. Then he scooted up beside Molly. Uncomfortable with all the attention, she eyed them warily.

"How are you feeling?" asked Nic. Her eyes flitted to his face. Krissa allowed her hand to drift toward her bandage-swathed throat. The human across from her frowned, reaching a hand out and allowing his fingers to brush the heavy gauze. Flinching, she sank back against her pillow, long nails digging into her thighs. The contact was unwanted, and Nic knew it, yet his lips still parted and his eyes held a look of hurt. Her body shivered slightly and she brought her hands up, wrapping her arms around herself.

"Pi-n-e" she croaked, cringing with each breathy rasp.

Turning to Molly, Nic gave the stranger a wave of his hand, urging her to leave. The girl, although entranced by the interaction, nodded vaguely and hastily made her way out of the room. The door shut and just as quickly, Nic's hand shot out. At first she jolted in surprise and fright, seeing as she was in a weak state. His hand latched onto her wrist, feeling so alien and smooth against her flesh; he pulled her closer and held her to him. At first Krissa became rigid as a board, but then she softened slightly and buried herself into the crook of his body. They sat awkwardly yet so comfortably for a little while. Eventually though, the ravenette brought her hands to clutch the man's clothing, nestling her face into his supple shirt. He smelled like wood smoke.

"Let's just forget what Pine did for a minute," he murmured softly into her dark curls. Krissa felt her injured throat tighten painfully and shook her head. She couldn't forget, even if she remembered only a little. Nic seemed a bit crestfallen at this, his posture wilting slightly. His arms tightened around her and she adjusted slightly in discomfort. Was he disappointed that she couldn't shake the memories? Or was it that it bothered him just as much as it did her? She sure wasn't going to ask- in fact, Kris couldn't ask even if she wanted to!

Shutting her heavy eyes, she listened to Nic's breathing, listened to the wind rattling the aperture to their right, as well as the soft drumming of the other being's heart.

 _Two panicked amber eyes, streaked with tears, and a face spattered with blood-_

Krissa sat up so quick that the top of her head collided with Nic's jaw. The human was sent sprawling to the floor with a yelp, falling with a dull thud. "Sl-Sla- Slate!" Christ, it burned to speak, but she couldn't think of anything else at this moment. She clambered over onto her hands and knees as Nic sat up on the floor, rubbing his jaw. It seemed to be a common theme. Her hands quickly moved, signing, ' **What happened to him**?' She demanded that he give her an explanation. ' **Is he alright? Where is Pine? Did Cornelius** -'

With a grimace upon his rugged face, his hand rose and fell upon her agile extremities, bringing them to a screeching stand-still. "Slow... down..." he articulated, looking at her with wary brown eyes. The puffy dark rings beneath them gave away that he had been struggling to sleep. "We don't need you straining yourself further." Krissa had never seen him so tired and her expression immediately grew to that of concern. Her heart palpitated. Had he been losing sleep because of the incident? Because of her? _Oh god_ , she thought, _I've been so selfish. These people have done nothing but save my life, and here I'm acting as if_ they _were the ones who cut me open._

Krissa reached out and brushed a dark tangle from his brow, a deep frown marring her features. "What's wrong, bright-eyes?" he inquired softly, peepers pinched slightly yet his features remaining soft. The young woman allowed her fingers to linger upon his face, taking note of how all his bruises were gone, save for a cut that was still healing along the bridge of his nose. Her dancing digits traced the faint scab, then down along his clammy cheek, and finally drawing away.

' **You look so tired** ,' she signed, but Krissa knew he wouldn't understand a word. There she went again, acting as if he were familiar with the movement, with the language of American Sign. However, just as she finished her gestures, he expressing something that Krissa couldn't quite place. For a moment she recognised it as something she had once seen in Slate's face, which caused a wave of anxiety to wash over her. She swallowed thick in her swollen throat. Before she could explore this analogy any deeper, the man in front of her suddenly rose up onto the balls of his knees and then to one foot, one hand drifting to her shoulder and the other allowing its digits to tilt her heart-shaped face upwards.

Krissa's breath hitched and all at once, the man's mouth was suddenly upon her cracked, dry lips. They were warm and his kiss was full and soft. The fleeting moment ended as he drew away, testing the waters as he hovered inches from her face. Nic was trying to figure out whether she was finding this unpleasant or not. Before she could really replace the breath stolen from her, his heavily lidded eyes of mud fell shut again, and he dove in for another. Her sore neck began to grow hot as his hand ghosted over the mere lip of her injury and straight to the base of her skull, allowing her to comfortably rest in his grasp. Krissa had just began to kiss back, falling into the gentle rhythm of their deepening passion, when the moment fizzled out. Nic had been the one to pull the two of them apart, their respiration trembling ever so softly as they came down from the miasma of ardour.

" _Christ, I thought I'd lost you_ ," he murmured


	22. The Illusion (Chapter XXI)

The rain seeped into his scalp, his coat stuck to his sinewy body. The woods were dark and dreary and deep, coaxing him further and further away from home, his little search party coming to stop near the old mill pond. A spider's web stretched between two blades of grass, the droplets from the misty haze of precipitation turning to glass in the tinny light. His chest felt heavy and hollow, as if his lungs were a burden within his rib cage. He felt nothing: food never tasted right, colours were absent, and even his sense of smell was lacking, only filled with the damp smell of water and earth. Heavy, hollow, colourless, tasteless, musty. Slate's amber eyes gleamed with nothing but burning ire, his stony facade having returned after the human he cared for had all but vanished, her whereabouts and ultimate fate unknown to him.

Ilam stirred the dirt beside him, leaf-litter slick from the sky's endless crocodile tears, the mud coating his feet. Slate wandered over toward the edges of the long-since empty, partially collapsed grain processing edifice. The rest of the group was settled amongst one another, huddled against the autumn chill, heads ducked as they spoke and made small-talk. They were reviewing evidence while their chief instructors explored the rest of the premises. It was human-made architecture, which had always been boring to look at until recently. Now, with nature claiming the earth as its own after a horrible battle against man, the woods were beginning to expand and feast upon once barren land. Moss and lichen choked everything in its path, emerald vegetation spreading like wildfire.

Slate disturbed a nesting rock pigeon, the bird taking flight in a panic and racing for safety. With a chuff, he raised a hand and warded off its vigorous wing beats, the concussive sound filling his ears. The floorboards of the old mill were stingy and beginning to bow, the concave ceiling and western wall allowing a steady stream of pooling water to fall to earth, along with slick tendrils of algae. The building stirred, the chimp following along behind in tandem. "Your brother," he rasped, drawing his attention as they split, scrounging for clues. Slate's head tilted up over his shoulder, raising one of the old floorboards, as if his hulking sibling could be hiding there.

' **He has gone mad**.'

"He has managed to," Slate paused, grunting within his throat, speaking drily to his companion. "Flee like.. a coward."

Ilam's amused bray hit the air. ' **Much like Koba**.'

The mention of his father had become something he was indifferent to, especially since the entire issue of Pine's sudden homicidal actions arose. Slate could still feel Krissa's constricting throat, hear her strangled cries as he held what little of her blood he could within her lacerated neck. ' **Too much like him** ,' he agreed. Even after it had been four days since the incident, he still awoke each morning with that nagging fear, hoping that she would be dozing beside his sister in the next nest over, and that he hadn't watched her nearly bleed to death before his very eyes.

"Poppy," his companion piped up. His hands moved with hesitance, unsure if he should be bringing up his timid sibling at this moment. The petite female had not spoken a word to anybody, whatsoever, not even to old Maurice. ' **Is she talking at all**?'

Taking a deep breath in through his nose, he did not dignify the chimp's question with an answer. Those thoughts about his sister- the ones about how she could have been connected all along, the ones where he could not even trust his dear sister, the ones where he sometimes found himself wondering if perhaps Pine had not threatened her innocent soul into silence - they grew thick and heavy in his coarse fur. It was as if he had been spattered with hot beeswax and he was struggling to tug it out without losing hair or bleeding. The subject that was Poppy was something he wished to keep on the sidelines. His main concern: the devil that was his brother. Slate crept along to one of the doors, hanging unceremoniously upon its eroding hinges. Dusty remains of human bones were tucked off in the corner in the neck room. A mouse skittered across the floor, as large as his palm.

Normally, Slate would have had the urge to crush the creature, but instead, he allowed it to scuttle away, safe and sound. Just as he did with Krissa. The very thought made his belly turn. The chinobo heard some, whom he was assuming was Ilam, push his way into the room, standing bipedal behind him as he examined the mess of detritus in the corner. Slate's ears pricked and his head tilted slightly in order to allow him to listen. "We should be moving," the older ape explained, swaying over to rest a moist and cool hand upon his shoulder.

' **Gather them** ,' he concurred, head bobbing as his nose twitched. A low rumble of thunder rolled overhead, and he had to wonder, could Krissa hear it? They were under the same sky, were they not? Was she even still breathing? Retrieving his spear from where it had leaned beside the skull he had examined, he palmed a piece of vertebra from the unknown being, his thumb rubbing the rough, almost chalky texture, the marrow blanched and porous from years of exposure to the elements. Who would tell his story when he was gone, he wondered, and if he left too soon... Slate found himself stepping outside of the building, pausing with one paw cradling his newfound treasure. His eyes found the vegetation, the pines turned a rich and irriguous shade of umber.

It was still: the wind absent, the leaves motionless, the birds silent.

His hair stood on end. Something deep within his chest arose: some sort of carnal instinct, his head bobbing as he eyed his surroundings, knowing well that he was being watched. Slate had been waiting for this moment. A crackling flame grew hotter and hotter in his belly with each idle moment, scalding his insides. All sound had stopped, his mind focusing on the tiniest disturbances within the undergrowth. Patches of clovers stirred and Slate jolted, wheeling around. Nothing but thin air.

" _You've changed_ ," came a whistling voice. Chills raced up and down his spine. Titling his head, the chinobo grew uncomfortable. His heart pounded hard within his chest, repeating his brother's unholy, tainted name, and yet it had not been him to speak. Slate was alone, was he not? The air smelled damp and fresh as it had before. There was no musk, nor was there the tang of blood that assaulted the back of his throat. Nothing, then all at once, something. Feet along the grass, a crouched frame hunching over behind him. An illusion, he knew, as he turned himself to gaze upon the partially visible frame of Koba. The bonobo's teeth gleamed. This was not a dream. ' _ **See human as ape. What happened to you, son**_?'

' **I grew up** ,' he pointed out, startled at first before his blood eventually began to simmer. His entire body was rigid. ' **You are not real.** '

' _ **Yet you answer me**_?' Koba shot back, clearly amused by this, given away by the taunting smirk plastered to his marred features. His scars were revolting, his own blood tacky upon his dark skin. Slate's lips peeled back, glowering at his father. This was all his fault. He was the reason Pine was like this. He had lived to become him, to follow in his footsteps and to wreak havoc. Perhaps the stories of guts and glory had knocked a few of Pine's already loose screws out of place. " _It's in.. your blood_."

Slate stepped toward his father, rising slightly in height. Dominance, testosterone, intimidation. The opposing male matched his height, as if he were merely his reflection. "To kill?"

' _ **To make them pay**_.' _Crack_. Shattered panes of glass. Images of red hair flashed through his mind, buzzing between his ears and causing him to flinch back. His eyes peeled open momentarily to stare upon the sight of his father now sitting with his back to him, a waterfall of auburn tumbled across the grass in front of him. The bloodied hand of a pale woman was partially visible. Caesar was knelt facing him, his expression gaunt and hollow, his hazel eyes slowly rising to fall upon the chinobo standing a foot away, barely swaying as he stood bipedal-

Somebody brushed the back of his shoulder and the male flinched, amber eyes moist with emotion. A snarl ripped from his throat, his fangs clicking as he fended off his pursuer. Ilam's head drew away and his flat lips peeled back, stumbling a few steps back and coming to stand further away. The other members of the small patrol stared, exchanging wary glances.

One of them, an orangutan, signed cautiously in his direction. He offered a hand directly after, just as one would to one of the council members. It struck him for a moment, startling him. Were they afraid of him? ' **Is something wrong**?'

At first the others visibly held themselves at a submissive stature, up until their second leader rose to match Slate's height. "Staring," he mumbled soothingly, his raspy voice like smoke off a lake. "At nothing. Talking to.. thin air."

There was absolutely nothing more he could say. Slate pushed past the group, shaking his head as he came to all fours once more. His followers meandered after, a chilly breeze like none they had felt before stirring their coats.

They kept looking.


	23. The Malevolent (Chapter XXII)

The lake was still as glass, the sunshine warming Krissa's back as she stood idle upon her little boat, staring off in the direction of the Simian Forest. Water pooled in the corner of the wooden floor, the shadows of fish beneath the murky depths occasionally distracting her. She had taken to her own, becoming a bit of a black sheep within the group of survivors. There were perhaps fifteen others, all working together in order to sustain themselves. Winter would be around soon, meaning snow, as well as a lack in natural resources such as water and food. Nic always seemed so busy, although he always made time for her at the end of each night, coming to visit her within her makeshift home in an old rickety two-story dock-side house. The walls felt hollow and almost suffocating in comparison to the woven walls of Poppy and Slate's house.

Each morning she would rise before the sun and listen to see if she could hear their distant calls. The faint aroma of wood-smoke would occasionally drift through her windows, stirring memories that still remained fresh within Krissa's mind. The once disturbing cries and hoots that drifted over the surface of the lake in the evening and during the wee hours were welcomed by her and her alone, seeing as the rest of the survivors on the island were horribly eerie in their opinion. Krissa was often left alone because of how backwards they viewed her, but this did not bother her in the slightest. She could disappear and return from the back-country whenever she felt like it, all the while going unnoticed. The terrain was new and thus sparked her curiosity, evidently giving her a home away from, well, "home."

Home. It was a foreign word to her now; she missed the mountains, she missed the woods, she missed their warmth and their intimacy. Krissa would often reflect on her own wistfulness toward San Francisco and her father, and couldn't help but feel... incomplete. Her world had been torn apart, twice now. The ravenette was up in the air, hovering. Where was she to land now? Her teeth sank into the soft flesh of one of the last pears of the season and she began to chew on the supple meat within. It was tart and sweet. She took a deep breath and shifted, legs crossed as she kept her eyes upon the shoreline. An alarm call. Were they hunting? Most likely. It sounded as if they were excited. It was that time of year, she assumed, that they would be stocking up on food just as they were.

Taking a deep breath, Krissa tilted her head up to the sky above. She had a boat, so why not just head back home? That was a very good question. Here, with her kind, she was welded to the ground with Nic at her side. She no longer travelled with a bow, she carried a pistol. She wore clothes which were not her own, although kept her old hunting clothes... and best of all, she had stopped keeping her hair short. Krissa's dark curls had grown an inch since she had last been around the ape tribe, their ends now reaching her shoulders. Life was routine. Wake up, sit outside, wander through the trees and miss the thick emerald moss; then she would head back for dinner, spend some time with Nic on the porch, listening to the ways, say goodnight and head in to bed. She had taught the man the basics of sign, which helped with their language barrier- it made it all the more better with his amount of patience.

Pulling her sweater up over her head, she set down her snack and shimmed out of her shorts, socks and boots. Refusing to bother with her father's arrowhead and stone that hung from the twine around her neck, she stood up on the edge of the boat, took a deep breath, and then dove beneath the water. Her entire body stiffened, the air held within her lungs punching at her wounded throat. The stitches were still there, an obvious scab left from where Pine's spear had severed the skin, but she was beginning to grow accustomed to the pain.

The ravenette dove down to the bottom, feeling her finger brush the gooey sand, a fish darting away from her in sudden alarm. Nothing but water weeds and rocks were visible, yet it was nonetheless serene and tranquil beneath. If she weren't holding her breath, Krissa would have smiled. Her lungs began to urge her up to the surface, and although reluctant, she complied. Kicking up, she made a quick ascent and then broke through, gasping softly for the air she so urgently needed. Krissa began to tread water, pushing herself further and further from her boat with no fear of the depths growing deeper and deeper beneath her. The cold air nipped at her moist skin, her teeth chattering softly.

If Molly found out about her swimming, she would skin her alive. She always implored that she stay on land, that she stay as still as possible and remain cautious while healing, but Krissa knew that she would be fine. The wound was healing nicely. Her legs and arms pumped vigorously, every instinct within her driving her in the direction of the main land, and yet... as she made it out into middle of the span of water, she stopped. Would she even be welcomed back? Of course she would... yet something deep down told her that she did not belong there, among a different species, treated like their own kin and living like a literal wild animal. Once again, for the fifth time in the past month, she turned herself back around and headed back for the boat.

Pulling herself up, she wrapped herself in her old ratty towel and gazed off across the water, the buoyant vessel bobbing softly on the waves. She then finished her snack and climbed back into her clothes, picking up her oars and paddling back to the rocky shore. Krissa slithered into her backpack and then tucked the boat back up on the beach, being sure to hide it with a few stray branches. She did not know when she would have to finally make a decision, seeing as the weather was unpredictable, but for now, while there was no snow, she would slowly make it further and further out across the water, yet still remain unsure.

The woodlands were quiet, aside from the occasional lark that sang off in the distance, communicating with another. Dapples of honeyed sun sprayed across the gravel path, her boots crunching beneath her as she wound through the trees and headed on her way, wandering aimlessly yet nonetheless slowly making her way back to camp.

She paused for a moment to inhale the cool, earthy air, then turned back to the long path ahead of her, traipsing along until she finally came to a stop. The meadow before her was flat and filled with towering birch trees, empty and as motionless as a painting. The survivor turned herself on a whim and began to cut through, enjoying the feeling of the bark of the trees she passed by brushing along her fingertips. Krissa hadn't the faintest idea of where she was going, but she trusted her own memory to get her back. It was strange, how much she had blossomed since her days before she had met Slate. A bolt of sorrow cut through her and she shut her eyes, shaking her head as she rounded the trunk of a singular poplar.

 _ **Thwack**_!

Her entire body jolted in surprise. What was that?

 _Twack! Whacckk!_

Slowly, Krissa grew curious and began to search for the source of the sound, stepping out onto a long-since used path, searching through the ferns with chartreuse eyes alight. It had been the first bought of drive she had had in such a long time, that she could feel how her heart quivered within her ribs. The sound grew more and more frequent, drawing her closer and closer with each wooden strike, until she stepped around the nearest bush, eyes falling upon a black-haired body. The female was no older than a yearling. Her head twisted around to look upon her with both fear and surprise in her large emerald gems.

What did Krissa feel? She was startled, yet felt no fear, taking one step back. The chimp, on the other hand, stared at her, much like a bear would when confronted. She seemed to be at a crossroads, her lips parting and her teeth flashing anxiously. A chirrup escaped her lips, her soft pant-hoot of warning telling her to stay back. Krissa did as advised, but crouched to her level, raising her hands. The simian's nose wrinkled and her hair began to rise, setting her blunt object down from where she had been trying to crack a rather tough-skinned nut.

' **It's okay** ,' the ravenette signed quickly, resting back on her legs. ' **I won't hurt you**.' The primate young visibly stiffened, eyes flitting across Krissa's face. She was not of Cornelius's tribe- how interesting! How long had she been living around here? Was she from the zoo or the lab? Perhaps she was a pet? The reticence between the two was uncomfortable and awkward. Dubious, the female shot a fleeting look over her shoulder, pacing back another beat. She was uncomfortable and showing definite traits of her wild ancestors, yet she still remained within Krissa's presence rather than fleeing. ' **Do you understand**?'

"Yes," came her voice, breathy and fragrant, delicate like a tiny aster. It reminded her of Poppy's, although... perhaps not as powerful. It sounded as if she could barely speak, much like Krissa herself. How many words did she know? Judging by how she struggled to convey to her what she wished, not too many. "Understand..."

Krissa felt relief wash over her. ' **Alone**?' she signed in response.

Her head bobbed. ' **Just me. Mother die month ago**.' She had had a family at one point? For how long? The ravenette smiled softly and slowly crawled forward, reaching a hand out as a peace offering. Shying away still, the chimp remaining cautious even despite their conversation. ' **Others across water**.'

' **I know, they were my friends** ,' she replied, hoping that the female would feel a bit more comfortable. Removing her backpack, she unlatched her weapon that the chimp had been eyeing, sliding it away and off to the side in a completely trusting gesture. If she wanted to attack, she could at any moment now without trouble. Even a small female of her size would be able to snap her neck like a twig. ' **They helped me when I was sick**.'

' **Human** ,' the chimp intoned, gesturing toward her. She seemed doubtful.

Krissa's head bobbed. ' **Friend** ,' she replied just as simply. The chimpanzee's heavy brow rose slightly, her weight returning to her knuckles as she edged closer. ' **Got hurt, other humans helped me. I won't hurt you**.'

Although she was as still as stone for a moment, contemplating on her next action, Krissa remained relaxed and welcoming. Patience was key with these creatures. Finally, she side-shuffled closer and reached a hand out, cautiously finding the ravenette's own.

"Human name?" she asked shyly, looking into her face with curiosity.

' **Krissa** ,' the human replied, nodding her head and mouthing her own name.

"Liepa." The word was unique on one's tongue, especially coming from an almost alien creature. Her eyes fell away to her throat, frowning gently. Although slightly weary, the chimpanzee reached out and feathered a finger over the tender, cinched flesh. ' **What hurt**?'

Now that was a whole different question. What was she supposed to say to that? Should she tell the truth? Tell a lie? Shrug it off and leave that question unanswered? Liepa seemed to see that this was a touchy subject and tilted her head, panting softly. ' **Another ape** ,' she finally answered, refusing to leave any secrets between her and this trusting creature. ' **Not a friendly one. Something wrong with him**.'

"Bad ape," echoed the chimpanzee, growing rather defiant. One of her lengthy fingers came to rest upon the faint scar upon her cheek before coiling her fingers in a few locks of her dark hair. Krissa giggled softly. Yes, Pine was far from good. Just like humans, there were bad and there were good. Species made no difference these days. ' **Good. People**.' Her dialect was limited, she could tell, but it wasn't hard to understand that she had just been complimented. Dipping her head, she remained still and allowed the creature to examine her bag, then her clothes, before coming to hover over the pistol tucked in the open front compartment.

' **Bad stick** ,' the chimp remarked.

' **To protect me** ,' Krissa quickly explained. ' **I don't use much**.'

' **Loud**.'

' **Yes, loud. Dangerous**.'

' **Dangerous** ,' echoed Liepa, the word sloppy upon her expressive hands. Krissa couldn't help but laugh again, earning a fond smile from the yearling.

It was then that their moment lost its lustre, a voice calling her name out into the woods cutting into the birdsong and the peaceful halcyon. Liepa flinched and scampered away, racing off for safety within the bushes and abandoning her. Speechless and admittedly frustrated, the young woman rose to her feet, collected her gun and bag, and began her jog back to the small clump of cottages. When she finally pushed her way through the boarded-up fence, pushing one of the loose materials out of her way and slinking beneath, she found that Nic was standing at the very edge of the field, a pair of binoculars falling down.

"Was beginnin' to wonder where you got to," he remarked halfheartedly, although she could tell he had been nervous. One of his arms wrapped around her shoulders and he pressed a chaste kiss to the top of her head. The feeling went unwelcome, but so was any sort of human touch. The two humans spent the rest of their walk back in silence, the man offering her some of the almonds he had been munching on, which she politely took, popping two into her mouth and enjoying their subtle, creamy taste. "You out in that boat again?"

Oh, right. Her hair was damp. She shrugged her shoulders, her thoughts more drawn toward the thought of seeing one of Slate's kind once more after months of them being illusive. ' _Swim_ ,' she signed, then plugged her nose, as if jumping into water.

"Swimming? In this weather?!" he exclaimed, barking out a laugh. _Humans are so loud_ , she thought, even despite how endearing his mirth had become to her. She smiled as he continued to praise her for her strange taking to swimming in cold conditions. "You must be insane, girlie. You and your thick skin..."

Clicking her tongue, she rolled her eyes and jogged ahead, trying to quicken the walk back to the small community for once in her life. She never took her time anymore; not unless it were out in the wilderness. The sound of him clambering after her caused her heart to speed up, and she would have squealed if she could have, but all that came out was a breathy laugh. ' **Slowpoke**!' she signed over her head, although her hands were moving too quickly to really be legible.

They finally made it into the backyards and out onto the street, the man catching up with her only as she slowed her pace. His arms wrapped around her waist with a growl, earning another hushed shriek from her, struggling to get away from his tickling fingers. Finally, they fell into a breathy fit of laughter, the man's mouth coming to her own. Their lips brushed and then they parted, heading down toward the medic station. Molly was outside, having a smoke, when she saw that Krissa and Nic were approaching hand-in-hand. With a suspicious simper, the woman welcomed them, causing the ravenette's ears to turn pink.

Disentangling her hand from the man's, she pulled away and allowed herself to be guided inside, sitting down in the kitchen and pushing her hair back so the woman could examine her wound, poking and prodding at it. The next bit was the worst: the tongue compressor. Molly's flashlight burned down her throat, allowing her to examine the inside of her pink mouth as per usual. "You're honestly making the quickest recovery I've ever seen," remarked the nurse, her smile giving her a burst of courage. "Have you tried speaking at all yet?"

Krissa's head shook, then she cleared her tender vocal chords and straightened herself out. Taking a deep breath, she hummed softly, the sound breaking within her voice box and sending an arrow of pain through her entire larynx. She had so many questions, even in her state of agony, the most prominent being as to whether she would ever speak again. It had not been the sickness that had taken her voice, nor was it the fault of a primate. It had been her best friend's brother. Wilting, she felt Molly's comforting hand upon her shoulder, giving it a squeeze of reassurance. "You'll get to it eventually. Don't worry..."

Then, as always, she was handed a palmful of vitamins and painkillers, taking them two at a time until she had finished them off. Krissa could feel them hit her stomach hard and grew restless, rising and moving to her usual place in the little window seat, gazing out into the woods. The survivor nestled into her usual nook and tilted her head back, pulling the old sketch book out from where she usually hid it beneath a few throw-pillows that Molly had tried to use to brighten up the little sill. The book was full of plant species she had drawn and described, quoting them from those she had learned them from. Salt, Dakota, Ilam, Rocket... although the vast majority were specifically taken from Slate's teachings. As she had grown more and more focused on the idea of the male outcross, her mind wandering, Krissa understood that it had been only natural that she sketch him, seeing as she had been in such a delicate state so long ago.

They weren't professional, but they were pleasing enough to the eye. His amber pools had been what she had mostly been focused on: their shape and colour and depth. Beside one of the quick drawings, she took note of the skunk weed he had been teaching her at the time, as well as her little journal entry. His expression was as disgruntled as it always was, or at least how she remembered it to be, which still warmed her heart despite his bitter mask. The drawing had originally just been an impulse sketch, but each time she had revisited it, she had added on more and more detail. Krissa felt Nic step up behind her, peering over her shoulder, yet felt no reason to hide these drawings from the man.

"Were you an art major or somethin' before all this?" he joked tenderly, coming to sit across from her. She shook her head, forcing a gentle smile as she looked up from her drawings. "I can't even draw a stick figure." Although his remark was amusing, the young woman couldn't shake the heaviness in her heart and how it beat so slowly within her chest. Her body felt so tight as she held the book, carefully illustrating the shoulders on another partially drawn mugshot with her pencil. He was leaning forward, listening to something, his expression as cool and calm as stone. She was attempting to make his coat look slightly damp, but she was unsure if she could do so without seeing it again. Taking in a deep, shaking breath, she relaxed against the cold glass. "You miss them?"

Her head rose and she gave him a look of question.

"The apes?" Nic continued, giving a solemn look as he glanced toward her sketch book.

Her fingers tightened around her utensil. She understood what he was saying and allowed her head to fall, refusing to give him a response. Swallowing hard, she shrugged her shoulder indifferently and traced the quill within the sketch's helix. Krissa glanced back out at the greying sky, slightly more depressed now that the sun was sinking below the sky. She could have crossed the water. She could have faced Pine down, all in order to see her best friend again. Her teacher, her protector. He was the wild in her heart and now it was being snuffed out by everyone that suffocated her: the probing eyes, the faint whispers, the mention of diseased creatures.

"It's okay to miss them," he murmured, offering a gentle brush of his hand upon her leg as he scooted closer. "But you're safe now, Krissa. You don't have to worry about Pine or Slate, or when your next meal will be, or when you'll bathe next. You have medicine and shelter here."

 _But it isn't home_ , she thought helplessly.

Rising, she sighed and closed her book, keeping it at her side. Eventually she tucked it inside of her bag and passed by Molly, who had been watching their little interaction with sad brown eyes. Padding across the floor, she found her boots. Krissa then headed for the door. "Aren't you stayin' for dinner, girl?" he called after her, to which she attempted to ignore but was unsuccessful.

Her head turned and she straightened up, offering a pleading look. He had made her uncomfortable, and he knew that now, judging by the apologetic expression on his face. Krissa shook her head and reached over, pressing a kiss upon his cheek before drawing away. His hand found her own and he pulled her back, turning her around and capturing her lips in his own. The two shared a long, hard embrace until he pulled away. She took a deep breath of fresh air, seeing as the man had stolen her own from her lungs in that moment. ' **I'm sorry** ,' he signed.

' **It's okay** ,' she lied.

Nic's hand gripped her own tighter. "I love you, Krissa..."

Her lungs hitched and she looked at him, startled by his sudden declaration. Lips parting, the words begged to be held within, yet her own morals attempted to force them from her mouth. Before the ravenette could make any sort of decision, there was the sound of an inhuman shriek, along with two bellowing voices. A child was wailing somewhere. Her heart leapt. The two bolted off the front step and raced in the direction of the cries, only for her eyes to find a small frame, trapped back in a series of garbage cans. A tall blonde man with a side-shave and a nose ring held a rifle in his hands, the other a worried father, holding his sobbing son.

"C'mere you filthy thing!" the man thundered.

"Daddy, don't hurt it!"

 _ **No**_ , she wanted to scream. _**No, leave her alone.** _At any other moment she was thankful for her inability to speak, but right now the sounds were tearing through her throat, unable to form words, her mouth and voice-box both broken from her injury. _**Liepa**_! The pain was white-hot and burning down into her lungs. Krissa felt as if she were vibrating from how hard she was shaking, but she still darted in between the man with the gun and the primate with little fear. Her hands flew to a nearby fallen branch, flying up and colliding violently with the stranger's gun, causing a shot to ring out.

People were beginning to come out of their homes, their porch lights illuminating their bodies as they curiously sought out the source of the drama. "Get out of the way! That thing is out contaminating our gardens, probably stealing our foot!" hissed the stranger, his icy gaze biting into her. She took a step back, one arm out as she tried to coax Liepa out from her shelter.

' **It's okay. I'm here. Human protect** ,' she signed, pleading that she come to her for safety.

The man made to grab her and shove her away just as Liepa began to reveal herself, but Nic intervened. "Woah, woah, _woah_! Don't touch her. She ain't doing any harm," he protested, getting in his face and shoving him back. "Krissa can lead it away or relocate it or something-"

"Are you blind? They can understand us, you know that!" The armed man was quick to retaliate, trying to appeal to Nic's human nature. The other survivor shrank back slightly, although remained in front of Krissa as she knelt in front of Liepa. "It'll just follow us back if we don't destroy it on sight!"

"I know what you're saying, Jonas. I just-" Nic shook his head, gritting his teeth. The ravenette could practically smell his growing anxiety coming off him in wafts. One of his hands came to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Maybe- maybe she can talk to it and it'll listen."

Jonas only grew angrier, turning to the father and his child. "Go home, Gregory." He then returned his attention to Nic, sighing heavily and shaking his head. "Nic, I'm not going to put my faith in a woman who lived with those things for half the goddamn apocalypse. She might _think_ that she has control over them, but she is wrong. They're disease riddled and we're doin' them a favour by blasting their heads off!" His gun came up and he shoved past her human shield. "Now _move_!"

Krissa felt Liepa's hand brush her own for a brief moment before she wheeled around and pressed the barrel of her pistol to his jaw, watching the determination die from his eyes as soon as he was confronted with the young woman's weapon. " _She_ ," the ravenette rasped softly, struggling to speak. "She... is a.. living cre-creature. Just like... you."

The man by the name of Jonas hovered, swallowing thick in his throat. There was something unmentioned behind his eyes, and as she brought the glock down from where it was protruding into the scruff of his jaw, they darkened. Krissa held Liepa close and stepped back, keeping her attention trained on those surrounding her with each pace.

Then, altogether, she turned on her heels and raced into the brush, ignoring Nic's cries.


	24. The Killer (Chapter XXIII)

The rain grew colder, the canopy enamoured and blushing even deeper shades of auburn and gold. It was one of those quiet mornings where Slate would, at times, spend a few hours grooming and speaking with his mother. This particular morn, however, was spent out in the woods, combing for signs of his brother whilst also getting a bit of hunting done. There were four parties out, alert and wary of the looming threat. Signs had become apparent in each and every part of their wood, yet none had managed to catch the small coup. The tension was growing and the entirety of the large clan of two-hundred-plus knew that it would snap at a moment's notice. They were all waiting- waiting for something to crumble.

Deep, hot breaths of air escaped the skinny buck standing in the clear, rubbing his antlers against the nearest tree for food. It was cold, condensation accumulating in the air like coiling fingers of vapour. Slate's entire body was soaked from the pattering droplets that fell from the snivelling sky. The pressure on his long bow grew, waiting on the orders from Rocket himself. The dark grey chimp sat a good three feet away, head turned, body completely rigid. One of his hands rose, as if to heighten their own eager intent; their prey was mere seconds away from falling into their clutches. The lack of harvest from the admittedly bitter cold spell had left the apes hungry for blood and flesh, some unable to keep themselves strong enough. A cold spell from the west constantly clashed with the dry, hot air from the east, churning the heavens and squeezing every last frigid tear from its complexion.

It was coldest in the heart of their territory, or so they thought. The only trouble Slate had with that, was that Krissa was currently in the thick of it, the small isle she called home dead-set in the centre of the storm. He worried day-in-day-out for her. Where was she? How was she coping? Summer had gone out like a lion, some would say, and others had a theory that the beast was here to stay, all through autumn. Slate's neighbours glanced around with dreary dark emerald and brown pits, some shifting where they silently sat as they grew impatient. Another hunt, another day, another dawn, another fatigued grey afternoon.

An ape stirred behind him and Slate craned his neck back, eyeing his hands. Small movements, secretive. He wasn't nosy enough to investigate. Instead, he turned his shoulder and let out the softest scolding grunts he was able to produce. The males behind him ceased their conversation, looking at him with guilty pools. The chinobo turned his head with a roll of his eyes. Young males. They made him feel as if he were centuries old. Perhaps it was because Slate had been forced to grow up too fast, or because he disliked most of the newer males in his colony, especially the more boisterous types. Eager, all hands and teeth, ready to fight...

 _You were that way_ , whispered Koba. He could hear his smirk. _Before you lost her._

Rocket's head turned in their direction, gesturing for them to move forward and take their positions. Slate pulled the bow up over his head, just as he had seen Krissa do so many times in the past. His father's spear remained at home some days. Whether it was because of the ghost constantly at his shoulder or the disapproval of his mother, he was unsure. He would go with the latter, seeing as his original hypothesis was something unappetising.

With one powerful jump, the male launched himself forward, swinging along the worn-down branches of towering timbres alike, leaf-litter falling to the ground. Slate grunted and tossed himself up next to Rocket, the two coming to an abrupt halt only feet from where the gulch severed the treeline. Water hissed as it crashed down the rocks, the river churning beneath, swollen from gallons upon gallons of precipitation. His head ducked as his momentum sent him nearly tumbling forward, only caught last minute by his leader's talons. Confusion filled him, he shot him a fleeting glance.

"The... bank," Rocket grunted, gesturing along with his husky intone. Slate remembered this part of the territory thoroughly, the feeling of Krissa's tight grip keeping him on his feet returning again and again in waves of unrelenting nostalgia. It had been the first time she had physically interacted with him, pulling him away from a watery end to his short existence. This had taken place just a kilometre down the beck. Although he did not understand at first, he narrowed his eyes and peered further along the water's spray. Suddenly the buck was no longer their concern- at first there was nothing out of the ordinary, the boulders deep blue-grey in colour, jutting out of the mud and tendrils of emerald, white-water gushing along the stony shore. Then his eyes caught sight of motion: one body, then another. Chalky war-paint, metallic weapons within their grasps. The first, a young orangutan, paused and turned to his elder, a rather scrawny bonobo with greying hair. Their movements were unclear, but Slate immediately understood why Rocket had stopped him.

Upon their party's fast approach, Slate and he rose and threw their arms outward, ordering them to stop. The five other chimps and bonobos caught themselves upon their respective branches, all simultaneously glancing about, all equally confused. Rocket twisted himself around. ' **Scatter**!' he signed urgently, a more violent representation of their typical gesture for ' _run_ '. Excitement was apparent in their eyes, although two seemed more nervous than anything. Heads bobbed in confirmation. Two digits came to Rocket's eyes, then to his chest. ' **Keep your eyes on me, wait for orders**.'

Action: Rocket's apes disappeared silently off in different directions, Slate moving to follow in suit. A painfully hard clap of the chimp's hand across his chest startled him then, dragging him back to his original crouching position. ' **Not you. Stay here** ,' Rocket insisted, pinching his small emerald eyes. Slate was just about blown off his branch by the stoic counsel member's statements. He nodded. ' **I need you here. You know your brother best.** '

He wanted to sign back ' _that isn't my brother_ ', but he realised he didn't feel like being cuffed until he fell off his perch. Instead, the chinobo compromised and listened, trying to decipher what was being discussed by the two near the water. Their numbers grew to four, a comfortable number that many hunting groups took up, each and every one of them following the leader as they wandered along the water's edge. Slate's coat rose slightly, despite being plastered to him. How many had Pine gathered? How long did he expect to hide? He was certainly making advances now. ' **We should follow them**?' he asked quickly, making sure his movements stayed small, the pair hidden further back in the upper reaches.

Rocket did not respond. He simply shook his head. The leading male shifted his weight. Turf wars. This is what this would turn into, as sure as the day was bright. With a jab of his hand, Slate followed after the chimp, following at a steady pace as they swung themselves through the trees. The river created a deafening hiss the closer they grew, and soon they were right next to the neighbouring side of the water.

' **Is there any way across**?' signed one of the young males. Slate's eyes drifted down the churning water with uncertainty, taking note of how their stepping-stone path was absent, completely swallowed by the unrelenting jaws of the gulch.

With that idea gone, he turned his cranium back up in the opposite direction, toward where the water was strongest, yet there was more of a foothold. "Trees are too... slippery," Slate established, shaking his head. Rocket stood bipedal, coming to his knuckles the moment he was close enough to the water's spitting edge. His attention fell upon the branches just the same before they caught sight of a few boulders further up the ravine. With a grunt, he gestured for the others to follow, which they did with diligence. The grey chimp was the first to cross, hopping from rock to rock, being sure to grapple as much of the slick surfaces as possible. The next two followed closer together, the twins not wanting to spread too far apart in case of danger. Just as Slate was preparing to do the same, he watched the smaller sibling suddenly lose his balance, one foot sliding awkwardly beneath the other.

His heart seized. As quickly as the lithe cross could clamour up, his arm flexed back and he snatched hold of Koba's faithful weapon. The ape had floundered straight into the drink, a shrill of alarm garbling from his throat as he managed to wrap an arm up around a jagged branch caught upon the stones, head and body submerged into the frigid water. Upon landing, he wedged the shaft in between a pair of smaller rocks and leaned as far as the weapon would allow him, just managing to snatch his tribemate's arm in a steel grip that would surely bruise. Slate's feet scrabbled and he yanked, praying that the staff of his weapon would hold its own. With the male's head above the water, choking and coughing as the rapids pulled him closer and closer to slipping away, the chinobo ground his teeth and bore down until Rocket had made it back in an hurry, careful to not have fallen in himself.

Slate was eventually relieved, the two able bodies squeezing together as they pulled the younger male to safety, chiding him for his reckless footing. He knew all too well, from experience, how terrifying this could be however, and nonetheless wrapped an arm over his quaking shoulders. Coughs and sputters escaped him, body attempting to reheat as he moved stiffly along, dribbling wet. The bank on the other side was muddy and soft under paw. Knuckling along, the entire band kept an eye on their smallest member, making sure he did not push himself too far. He seemed to have been scared shitless. _He learned_ , he noted.

Their hunt resumed, although this time not for wild game. They tracked their journey through the trees until it ran dry, occasionally inspecting the forest floor. It seemed as though they had lost them, and with the unending amount of rain, their tracks would disappear into thin air within an hour. Slate was admittedly a bit frustrated, and thus as they began to split up so that Cornelius could be informed of the recent sighting, he simply climbed to the top of the canopy and allowed Rocket to figure out the nitty-gritty. He couldn't go back, not right now. There had to be more to it, there had to be something coming. He could feel it. A few fingers graced across his left pectoral as he watched a pair of birds flutter by, the wind gently buffeting his hair and gathering deep within his chest as he breathed slowly, surely. The colours blotting the horizon were endless and admittedly easy on the eyes.

His perch swayed, indicating another's approach, and his cranium tilted down in order to gaze upon the bulky form ambling along the branches. ' **We should keep tracking that buck** ,' remarked Rocket. A mere foot below him sat the lone-wolf, Tyler, his typically unruly shoulders hunched as he groomed his left arm free of mud. Slate pant-grunted in response, shuffling his feet before nodding and swinging himself down to sit on the branch opposite of the leader. ' **The hunt will clear your head**.' One of the male's hands clamped down firmly on his shoulder, drawing his attention just before they all set off again. Tyler's head rose with curiosity as the chinobo's own wrenched around in question. His eyes darted from the male's opposing mitt and his emerald stones. "Slate..." A moment of silence grew tense, riddled with discomfort on the chinobo's end. He really disliked being touched. ' **We _will_ find him**.'

Slate was unsure if the male had the same premonition as he, but at the moment he did not care. He grunted aloud and nodded, turning himself back earthward and soaring down, catching himself gracefully with his powerful arms and launching himself forward. For the time being, he would distract himself. It was the only thing he really could do at times like this.

Perhaps they could not retrace the buck, but for now, they could hunt squirrels. Slate drew his bow, posture straightening just as he had seen Krissa do, and he let an arrow fly. The rodent he had been aiming for soared to the ground from where it had been collecting wads of dead leaves for a nest, one it would never return to again. Tyler, in the mean time, slid down toward the ground and collected what he could, stashing away along the satchel at his side, removing the arrows with careful hands and returning them to their marksman as he returned back down to earth. The constant cycle was mechanical, the three falling into a pace that could only be compared to cogs in clockwork, working in tandem to bring home as many they could. Hopefully Ilam's party was fairing better.

He wouldn't allow himself to think back to those late summer days they'd both press to the sopping-wet leaf-litter, among the vegetation and insects, listening to the steady thud of hooves as they waited for their moment to spring and startle the herd into heading eastward- back when there would be no sound and all he could hear was their mingling respiration, excitement buzzing off her in a contagious zeal. Krissa had always been an eager huntress. He remembered milestones, such as the first time he had taught her to skin and gut an animal, or the day they had quietly documented different types of markings, such as bobcat or bear. He even remembered watching her try her hand at swinging... which unfortunately hadn't worked out so well. To say that he missed her was an understatement, and for that he felt like a complete and utter fool.

The pines swayed and creaked between gusts of wind. From down below, Rocket and Tyler waited in the undergrowth, their sights set on a rather oblivious rabbit. Slate hadn't seen one in ages, but he certainly wasn't going to begin to question the laws of nature. With a graceful draw, the ape took a deep breath and fired, missing it just by an inch as it embedded itself into the tree just a hair's-length above its quivering backside. He had missed. _Missed_. He _never_ missed.

 _Krissa never missed_ , Koba noted softly. It was as if he were speaking in apology to him, a kind change from his usual snicker or sneer. How silly- the woman had missed many times before. _Not after her practice with you. You tutored her._

The fuzzy animal panicked and darted away, thankfully straight into Rocket's hands. There was a faint crunch as he snapped the creature's neck, silencing the high-pitched squeal it emitted upon impact. His head then turned up in his direction, eyes narrowed and head tilted in question. ' **Lose your aim**?' Tyler teased, earning a glower from both males. His teeth bared in amusement and he chuckled. The dusty chimp could tell that there was something the matter, just by how Slate's eyelids had fluttered subconsciously. He never missed.

 _Crack_! The explosion of gunfire shook Slate right out of his trance. A shrill hit the air, rising in tempo and joined by multiple others, indicating danger. The entire forest grew silent and the trio immediately flew into action, rushing toward the sound with their own excited calls adding to the cacophony. They were brought to a steep slope, the sound of keening vocals feeding Slate's dread. A body laid among the needles, bleeding and motionless, protected by a rather distressed bonobo in Cornelius' war paint. Two gorillas struggling together arm in arm, a battle of fists and teeth, crimson glistening fresh; another was beating a whimpering orangutan. Another shot and their own fell, cut down in a spray of claret.

Coal dragged himself pitifully toward the fallen ape and his frightened companion, attempting to protect him yet nearly pissing himself in fear as he looked upon the three other apes that fell from the towering pines. Rain fell in sheets, stirring mud at their feet, bathing their arms and legs. Their leader stuck out like a sore thumb: adorning a cape-like hood, his limbs were bathed in chalky smears, his face completely hidden by the stripped heavy skull of a dear. The semi-automatic in his grasp lifted skyward, barrel pointed away from his victims. Rocket hit the earth, rolled and shot up against the nearest tree, allowing his body to shoot forward like a 150lb missile of pure brawn. He landed between the struggling hunting party, their smallest that afternoon, swinging his arms and establishing dominance.

The ominous figure stood straight on hind legs, matching the muscular chimp in height and taking him in. Slate had hung back while the standoff began, Tyler coming to brush hands with those injured, trying to nudge the corpse awake at his feet. They chattered back and forth while Rocket snarled protectively, arms wide and his frame swinging from foot to foot, prepared to die if it meant shielding his injured companions.

' **You bring your guns here, you ruin our name** ,' Rocket signed. Thunder rumbled overhead, the distance sound of their approaching cavalry filling the silence. The ape behind the mask tilted his head as if to sneer and fired a warning shot up into the air, earning a slight flinch and a bray from the frightened youth hovering beside his tutor. Oh, _Ilam_.

Tyler growled, emotion deep within his eyes. Ilam had taught many youth before, and to see his mighty frame broken and limp, it really struck a chord among those present. It was a great loss. "You are a coward. Stop this before it... gets out of hand."

"You're _next_ ," a breathy, wheezy voice rattled from behind his mask of marrow. Something behind those vile, hissing tones turned Slate's gut to stone. He gritted his teeth from where he had taken up his position, standing with his brow drawn and ready to fire.

Rocket straightened, taking a defiant step closer and squaring his jaw. His thin coat rose on end, attempting to intimidate his enemy, who merely moved his head downward. ' **You fire, and so does he** ,' he signed, gesturing off toward the chinobo, settled up in the treeline. The enemy turned his head and glanced off over his shoulder at the male. Slate narrowed his eyes and straightened out his posture, being sure to make himself visible. His grip shifted.

The ape in front of Slate's brother continued to speak with authority. ' **Be wise. Put down the gun**.'

"Is this what you want?" grunted Coal who lay off to the side, nursing his bleeding shoulder. His breathing was laboured, obviously on the brink of falling out of consciousness. Slate's hands and wrists were beginning to ache from the constant pressure. "To... follow... in Koba's... footsteps?"

The ape behind the mask did not move. He simply held his head cocked, looking upon the injured silver-back with hollow eyes. "If it means... restoring balance- I'll kill for him," the devil hissed, then turned his head toward Rocket, bringing the firearm up and pointing it directly toward the alpha in front of him.

The chimp's face dropped from its once steely decor, becoming that of blatant dread. Fear welled within Slate's belly and he pulled the arrow back until its feathered end tickled the side of his cheek, releasing it on a whim and firing directly at the opposed party. The arrow embedded itself into the thick hide hidden beneath his cloak, earning a snarl of rage as he staggered forward. A singular bullet escaped the gun and Slate immediately threw the bow over his head, ducking down the tree the moment his enemy swung around, firing violently in his direction. Splinters flew as lead spit out across the foliage, cracking across tree trunks and whizzing over his exposed pate.

A blast of agony engulfed the side of his skull, a high-pitch ringing filling his audits, and realising he had been grazed, the male hit the ground. For the time being, Slate remained on the forest floor, a hand clamped over his injured ear as he waited out the rain of ammunition. The wood filled with shrieks and hoots, all different in their own tone and pitch, the thunder of hooves following after. He could identify each one, which he was thankful for, seeing as he knew who he was working with. However, it was then that the enemy retreated, leaving the tribe to dash after them in clumps of multiple search parties. Slate listened as Hail swung overhead, barking at somebody to head east and for everyone to fan out.

He scrambled up: Pine couldn't make it far if he were injured, if that were really him. Slate was at a cross-roads. He could either follow his inner instinct to chase after his brother and maul him senseless, or turn himself around, come out of hiding and assess the situation... as well as help bury their dead. With a frustrated slam of his fist, gouging the muddy browning leaves beneath him, the simian hauled himself up and knuckled out into the open clear, immediately met with the sight of Tyler and an orangutan trying to help support Coal, who was growing weak from the loss of blood within his flank. Further down the slope, Rocket was gripping the side of his head, hunched over Ilam. The balding ape and his companion had always been close friends, as thick as thieves, especially after Caesar's passing.

Sure, Maurice was wise and you could confide in him, but at the end of the day, sometimes the elderly orangutan could become too philosophical, and one would want to escape to the natural, more brutish side of their clan. Slate hurried quickly to the male's side, speaking to him in a rasping voice. "It was him." The world felt as if it were tilting sideways when the chimp faced him. His left eye was clotted and bloodshot, half of his ear blasted off. Despite his current state, however, as he looked at the younger male, he reacted with the same exact expression. They had both been struck by a bullet, albeit Rocket at closer range. "He was here. He's alive."

"And growing stronger," intoned Cornelius, just breaking away from a hasty order with their final tracking party. The anger was apparent in his eyes, churning behind his emerald irises and turning them electric. Slate would have been surprised by this, if not for his own growing fury. ' **He has killed his own kind, broken sacred ape rules. He will strike again**.'

The horses whickered nervously, agitated by their energy. Maurice, hulking as ever, slumped to the ground from the back of his steed and landed with a huff. 'He is wounded, thanks to Slate's shot. Means he's weak,' reasoned the orangutan. ' **He might try again, but he won't come unprepared. We must discuss the future outcome, Cornelius. All of us**.'

"He cannot get away," Slate insisted. "We cannot... sit idle."

' **And we won't** ,' Cornelius insisted, jaw setting as he glanced between his two friends. ' **Give me time to think on this.** '

"Cornelius," Rocket piped, lips stirring tightly between syllables. 'I follow you devotedly, just like I did Caesar, but this is only going to lead to war.'

A deep sigh escaped Maurice. ' **The cycle may continue**.'

Something within Slate's chest trembled, hoping that he was not implying that Pine was capable of starting a mass genocide. His mind wandered back toward his spear, Koba's spear, and he wondered what would have truly happened if he had handed it over to his brother for him to keep. Not only that, but something else nagged at him. Since the beginning, he had always studied the red hair wrapped around the weapon's handle. Was it a symbol? Had he intended to keep it there? Was it a war-trophy from an unsuspecting victim, or was there more to it? Hair had sentiment: whenever one of their stallions would pass away, its rider always had the option of keeping a few locks of hair. Was this a memorial?

There was so much to Koba's past that it was dizzying.

"We can't... let it happen," Slate implored once more, eyes shutting tightly as he curled his lip against the throbbing pain in his ear. He could feel the blood pulsing out of it, feel how hot it had grown and the like. He was missing a rounded, gnarled chunk from the upper cartilage, directly where a helix could have been placed- if he had chosen to get another. ' **First Krissa, now Ilam, Coal. Even _you_ Rocket**!'

' **Krissa was human, we could all see that he hated her for that** ,' Rocket gestured, becoming slightly frustrated with Slate. Outraged, his eyes flashed, but he allowed the male to continue with his spiel. ' **It was only a matter of time**.'

"She was our family!" the chinobo snarled, rising to full height next to his superior. ' **She's out there, vulnerable, somewhere, and with him running loose, she's in danger again. We all are. Nobody is safe**.'

Maurice raised his hands, attempting to aid in the situation by trying to douse the growing flames that licked behind Slate's burning eyes. Both males turned their heads and loosened their rigid shoulders. ' **Human, ape- none of it matters to Pine. He's out for blood. This is no time to divide it between species, Rocket**.'

' **You weren't here** ,' Rocket protested, gestures becoming violent now. He huffed and his nostrils flared, hand coming away from his disfigured audit and flitting through the air. ' **He said he would kill in Koba's name. He's out of control, lost his mind**.'

' **He said it in his own words** ,' Tyler added, glancing nervously between the conversing males.

A burble of warning escaped the orangutan, only to be silenced completely by Cornelius' rumbling pant-chuffs. They were assertive and powerful, resounding through the clearing. "Enough arguing. We need to get... our wounded.. home."

Slate huffed angrily and ducked his head, offering a bloodied hand to his elders in submission, attempting to apologise for his brazenly forward comments. His lungs expanded in his chest and he glowered down at the ground.

* * *

The army returned home in the mean time, patients preparing to be examined as they were flooded with curious and mortified faces. Cornelius was preparing to speak with those in the clear once he had consulted his counsel, and although Rocket was a member, he understood that his safety came first. Besides, the sutures and bindings wouldn't take too long. Up the ramp they went, until they wound right up along the tree's fan and into the entrance of the Medicine Tree. Slate was abruptly pulled aside by a warm hand, earning a surprised pant-hoot, teeth flashing accusingly. His entire being was on end and all he could think was kill, _kill_ , **_kill_**.

Harm, stab, cut, bash. Giving his attacker a shove, he was immediately responded to with a cuff across the back of the head, and he winced.

Pain resonated through his skull, so deep in fact that it ached within his teeth, his gums, his tongue. He shot the ape in question a vile glare, only for his face to fall slack. Poppy stood before him, dusky gaze fixed on his with enough potency to choke a horse. The mask she wore protected her snout, giving away her exact location all this time. Sparrow and Shell had been tutoring her after all. Surprised, his features softened slightly, although he still remained unimpressed.

' **Stupid** ,' she signed gently, pulling him off to the side so she could work on him. Tinker had already brought over the soaked moss and the two began to sop up some of the blood. He had to admit, he was feeling a bit light-headed, but he was unsure as to whether it was because of the loss of claret or the smouldering rage burning in his chest.

The silence was horribly deafening as he pulled off his long bow and quiver, setting them aside so they were out of the way of possible prying hands. Members of the colony curiously peered inside, most likely concerned for loved ones, husbands and children alike. Tinker finally finished, granted not without earning a few discomforted grunts from the male, and Poppy took over, cleaning the crimson from his face and neck. He could feel her eyes probing at his face for something, but he did not know what. Slate tilted his cranium to the side, trying to avoid them as best he could, only for her hand to grip his jaw and twist his head back so she could examine for any other wounds. Her movements were light and tender, yet got the job done, unlike Sparrow or the others. His sister had a natural gift.

"Was it really him?" she breathed softly, drawing his attention. Their eyes locked in an intense stare-down. Should he really tell her? Where would he begin? He would want answers first. Was she willing to give them? Slate, a bit bewildered by her sudden inquiries, nodded gently.

' **We think** ,' he motioned apprehensively. Another stale bought of silence filled the gap. Slate took a deep breath and shut his eyes, speaking carefully, feeling as though he were walking on eggshells. "He... killed Ilam, shot Rocket, Coal."

The female tensed and paused her work. ' **You're okay, though**?' she signed.

Slate fought the urge to respond with a nasty, " _do I look okay? I'm bleeding_." Instead, he merely screwed up his face and wrenched his jaw, rolling his head on its joint. "Could be worse," he replied.

' **No, I mean, here**.' Her hand found his head, tapping her fingers lightly across his forehead. The chinobo flinched slightly and looked at her in question. Poppy looked upon him with a grave look of worry, yet nonetheless all the stubbornness of their own mother. Her chin tucked up and she grunted softly, lips parting. Her lingering touch found his chest, indicating his heart. He couldn't fight the wave of vulnerability that washed over him. It was embarrassing to know that she could see right through him. ' **Are you okay, _here_**?'

His hand moved to brush her own away. "Fine," he rasped. ' **I am fine**.'

' **We haven't spoken for days, but whenever I see you, you're always thinking**.' Poppy's eyes darted away and she moved to apply yarrow pulp, coating her fingers in the substance and rubbing it into the wound. Slate bristled and stiffened, chuffing and huffing in complaint. Once she was finished, the male shook his head, a fuming breath hissing out from between his teeth. He continued to remain stagnant, allowing Poppy to slather the side of his head in lamb's ear. Coal's cries filled the small space as they began to try and remove the bullet from his body. Both of the siblings flinched, then exchanged a glance.

Something unspoken was exchanged between the two. ' **She's probably okay, you know** ,' Poppy consoled, ashen browns warming him slightly from the inside, it seemed. He had always been able to find comfort in her, like an old friend, not just a sibling. An emotional breath escaped through his nostrils and she pulled him into an embrace.

"What if she... isn't?" Slate muttered into his sister's face, their brows pressed to one another in a supplicating gesture on her part. Poppy took a step back and searched his steely mask, trying to read him. He withdrew into himself once more and his gaze fell.

' **You regret it**?' Her movements caught his eye and he offered a slant. His brows pinched in confusion. ' **Letting her go**?'

A pang of grief washed over the male, a flood of memories washing over him; golden sun and freckled caramel skin, unruly black curls, long limbs. Her voice, her gestures, her body language: it was all right there, before his eyes - or at least had been, until Pine's decision to sever their already crumbling bond, all with the pointed end of his spear. Slate swallowed thick in his throat. He had always had a hard time when it came to conveying emotion. It was difficult to put a voice to how he felt. At least right now, while Poppy was open to talk, while they were ignoring the elephant in the room, he could speak his mind.

' **Every minute** ,' he responded numbly. The smaller simian to his right shifted her weight and remained as silent as the grave.

' **And you loved her**?'

Since he had found her, he had known. Subconsciously, he had understood it had been more morbid curiosity than duty to follow after Krissa, to keep watch on her. He understood that she was harmless, but instead of abandoning his post, he explored deeper, even going to such lengths as befriending her. However, if one were to ask him when exactly it had happened, when he had fallen, he would be unable to give an exact answer. Perhaps it had happened while they were hunting, or when she had read to him that eve by the fireside. Maybe it had even come to develop while she had been healing after his infant brother had passed away, or during the morning of the funeral, when they had been standing at the child's graveside, her paw curling around his arm and wrist, resting there comfortably.

It had blossomed into something more and more each moment of every passing day: the conversations over a crackling hearth with his sister or Maurice or Salt present, even at times while they were out for their morning lessons, off somewhere deep in territory with just the two of them to keep one another company. Slate considered himself to have been oblivious, his own heart refusing to accept the way it palpitated whenever she would smile at him, especially when he was high on adrenaline after a successful hunt, strutting in proudly while brandishing Koba's spear and the pelts he had caught. There were those moments of constant touching, of physical contact, that he didn't mind- in fact, on some occasions, he actually sought out her comfort. It was impulsive and strange and messy. A glance, a brush of fingers or limbs, hovering over her shoulder or resting in the same branch together as they listened to courtship or coming-of-age ceremonies.

His adoration for this beautiful creature sent him up the wall, through the moon, suffocating on starlight. That was horribly poetic, but it was the only way he could possibly describe his feelings. It was exhausting and draining, and yet fuelled him to pry himself from his nest every morning, to fight harder, to think quicker. It blinded him, such as when he had charged into battle against his own brother, prepared to gut him, to maim, to crush.

' **Yes** ,' he signed, breathless. Yes he loved her, he still did.

' **Why didn't you tell her**?'

"How _could_ I?" he vocalised, head whirling to face Poppy. She was watching with a slightly arched brow. She did not seem impressed.

' **Using your words** ,' she retorted, tilting her head. ' **Wouldn't have been that easy**?'

' **Our father despised humans as a whole. Pine would have** -'

"Why is this about... _him_?" Poppy interrupted, silencing those words still stuck in his throat. ' **Father is dead and Pine made you into a stupid meat-head. You just followed him like a sheep, and it was dumb. You were your own ape then, and now that he's gone, you are more you now than I've ever seen you.** ' The medic slipped from the surface of the bedding beneath them and hovered in front of him, pretending to check his scalp so nobody would bother her to start working again. It was hectic already, she probably was not used to so many patients. Slate remained baffled by her statement. ' **You aren't our father. You aren't Koba. Pine isn't either, but he's turned himself into him, thinking that's the only way things must be. That Koba must live on, and humans and apes must fight, kill**.'

Slate wavered, staring at her now with parted lips. His curiosity was now gnawing at his innards until they forced their way up his gullet. "What did he say to you? To... get you out in the rain.. that night?"

Her confidence shrank and she was suddenly the size of a vulnerable female once more, her shoulders tightening. The question hung in the air like a hovering vulture. Poppy's conflict was visible in her eyes. His eyes narrowed in suspicion. The shaman's head shook softly, refusing to speak on the matter any further. ' **Rest**.'

It took everything within the raven simian not to lose it on his sibling. ' **Did he threaten you**?' She hesitated, clearly still uncomfortable as she moved the supplies away, as if she were wondering if it were worth the risk. Alarmed, Slate rose slightly from where he sat.

"Poppy," he growled, asserting his dominance as her older sibling. " _Tell_ me."

She then fell to her knuckles, carrying the wooden bowl in one hand while supporting her weight with the other. Poppy disappeared and did not return, leaving Slate to question the authenticity of her words. Slate sighed.

As the chinobo moved to return outside, he couldn't fight the anxiety that washed through him, wave after wave. There were so many questions and so many queries he had, but one thing rang true in his mind.

War was coming once again.

And he would need Krissa at his side.


	25. The Collision (Chapter XXIV)

Ilam was buried at dawn the next day, right next to his late wife. The spot chosen was right on the cliff-side, looking out over the wood, facing directly toward the desert in the distance. His daughters, April and Rose, held each other in constant grief, eyes moist and shoulders shaking. From beside him he felt Ring stir, greyish-green set blank. Exchanging a brief grunt, Slate gently placed a hand upon her back while they carried the fallen ape's body out into the clear. Rocket supported the middle, steely as ever, Stone in the lead and Coal in the back. The bonobo's body had been nestled in bows of cedar and dressed in chalky warpaint with a single smear of blue across his eyes. Slate's hands still ached from digging the shallow grave, the cold mud still present beneath his fingernails like a haunting ghost.

An inch further and it could have been Rocket, a hair-length further upon the gorilla's chest and his heart would have surely been clipped. It could have happened to anybody else, to Tyler, to Pigeon, to Cornelius even - if Pine had have stuck around longer. Slate bit back a shudder at the thought of laying his prince to rest, still as stone and never to move again. The crowd shifted, eyes slowly following the passing coffin of branches, the ache of regret and sorrow palpable in the air. Once he was lowered beneath the surface of the earth, the apes slowly began to lay their own offerings and gifts around the body. First kin, then siblings and friends. The final offering was from Rocket himself, spear in hand. Ilam was to be laid to rest like a proper warrior. Slate only could dream of a ceremony such as this.

The stormy-grey chimp paused in front of his dear friend's grave and his shoulders slumped slightly, looking upon the weapon between his fists in thought. It would be the last time he studied its grooves and the engravings the chimp and he had designed himself. Tinker, dressed formally in her shaman attire, offered a hand upon the small of his back, which evidently gave him enough strength to give the mighty weapon over. Rocket sucked in a quick breath and knelt, allowing it to nestle at his side, among the fruit and flowers and autumn leaves lining the nest. The ritual was nearly over, to be finished by Maurice's kind words before allowing the tribe to surround Ilam's final resting place and lay bows of pine across his exposed frame. Finally, as the sun cracked over the misty canopy, Slate watched as the colony slowly withdrew; bits and pieces at first, but then eventually in groups.

There was not a moment to lose.

Slate stuck behind, stoically taking his place beside Cornelius and Rocket, pushing the dirt and clay back over their fallen friend. It wasn't until he glanced up across the lip of the hole that he spotted his sister, standing beside Lake, waiting quietly for his return. The task at hand took perhaps a half an hour, yet they still waited, they still hung back. Eventually he was finished and knuckled over to join them by the skinny birch trunks. Leaves crunched beneath his dirty paws, their rich scent flooding his nostrils and reminding him that winter would soon be present. Would it snow? Perhaps. The chinobo came to sit next to Lake, who looked over at the dispersing party and the mound of churned earth with a hollow sort of look.

' **Are you okay**?' he signed apprehensively. Ever since the discovery of them being part of the same family, the pair had been uncomfortable and awkward.

Her head, however, turned in his direction and she offered an almost pitifully sad smile. It just about twisted his guts senseless. ' **As best as I can be** ,' she replied, the bones framing her face gently swaying. At one time he had been bashful, finding her to be the most attractive female in the colony. She had such fire, and he liked that. However, Slate had found that in Krissa and it had opened his eyes to a whole new world of possibilities. Still, Blue Eyes had been right to choose her as a wife. ' **I knew Ilam. He was kind. Taught me about ducks**.'

' **He taught me what berries were poison** ,' Slate reminisced. ' **Mushrooms too**.'

The following silence was a toothache, an eyesore, something horribly painful that none of them could shake. Slate chuffed and gestured a farewell, leaving the two females to finish their last minute visit. The chinobo took to the trees, sinewy arms carrying him in flight across the canopy. He had a long way to go, did he not? Slate took the short cut down toward the water-side, following the river's path all the way down to the pebbly shores. He stopped halfway to catch his breath and warm himself in the sun, listening to the trees rattle in the breeze as he hunched over, settled upon his haunches and trying to protect his most exposed features from the wind. A raven croaked greedily, most likely having found a juicy piece of carrion to feast on. The idea of food caused Slate's belly to rumble, eager for a meal, but he understood that he had priorities.

After perhaps forty minutes, the outcross continued on his way, ambling from tree to tree. Although he did not wish to revisit the spot, Slate paused over-top of Krissa's camp. It had been long-since abandoned, moss having grown heavier on the little underground den's slate roof. The log was still visible, although a bit deflated from months of decay. He could practically feel how spongy it would be beneath his feet, simply by looking at it. Half-tempted to lower himself down, he eyed the little home with his flaming gaze, yet continued on nonetheless. It would be mid-afternoon by time he made it to the shoreline. He continued along the river's winding path until he finally reached the final border of trees. Slate meandered along from there, searching the water's edge for any possible sign of human activity.

He came up with nothing, much to his defeat. Snout twitching, he grunted in his throat in frustration and kicked over a few stones. This was not as easy as he had thought it would be. He returned to the safety of the woods, tossing his body through shafts of light as he gracefully propelled himself through the spruce and pine. Their rich aroma was sharp within his nostrils, strong enough to bowl him over, but it kept him alert and acute to his surroundings, much like the scent of mint did for a newborn. He had always disliked the plant as a yearling. The simian's deltoid and trapezius muscles stretched and rippled, powerful and strong from years of experience in the trees. He had always been exemplary when it came to climbing and jumping. It was a blessing to be so sturdily-built.

As his journey contoured along the edge of the lake, his probing eyes would occasionally catch sight of a lantern or two across the way, the minuscule specks that travelled along the outskirts of the human's little facility alerting him to the possibility of discovery. He was correct in assuming so: as Slate drew closer to the lapping waves, leaning out upon a particularly long overhanging limb whilst balancing himself with one arm, he spotted the shape of fuzzy heads bobbing about. A long boardwalk came into view and he stopped, frozen until stock-still as he caught the sound of human conversation.

One voice said, "How many loads are we supposed to find?"

"I d'nno, Christ, maybe a dozen? Jonas is crackin' down on our asses now that winter is coming," responded another, unpleased by his friend's curiosity. The chinobo raised his head, sniffing gently at the air. "I'm startin' to get concerned, to be quite honest."

"About what?"

"The traps in the lake. They're pullin' up less n' less fish with each passin' week."

"Hibernation, you think?"

"You think fish hibernate?" the second voice laughed.

Hurt, the first voice audibly shrugged. "Well, don't all animals?"

"No, especially not th' apes." Someone kicked a few stones. The two men came into view, one shorter and stubbier, the other brawny with chestnut brown hair on his head. Slate tilted his head. "Speakin' of which, run into any lately?"

"Haven't even _heard_ one," responded the stout man. "Beginning to think that they all fucked off somewhere warmer. They're smarter than we are, you know."

The two hoisted up their load into a boat tied tightly to one of the dock's posts. Water sloshed around their knee-high boots, the material of their pants growing damp in places where they submerged too deep. "I bet that new girl'd agree," the other remarked, smirking. "Doesn't she speak monkey?"

"Yeah, came in talking with her hands n' shit. Nic sure knows how to pick 'em. You'd think she's into that witchy-hoodoo stuff too, with all those weird drawings and necklaces she wears."

"She was drenched in mud when he brought her in, it's no wonder she's off her nut." Slate felt a zing shoot up his spine, the breath stilling in his throat. He couldn't fight the faint curling of his lips as he reflected upon the theory that Krissa had made it. She was alive! "Still, she's a good fisher. Just acts real weird. Makes me think she was brainwashed or some shit into thinkin' she was one of 'em."

"Maybe she was!" the stout man cracked, earning a laugh between the two.

Of course she had been. She always had been, and yet somehow their jeering and mocking caused anger to well deep within his guts. Slate squared his shoulders and huffed, stepping back into the thickest greenery he could while nestled along the trees. The two began to climb into their little ship, the tarp - similar to the one Krissa had used to keep her shelter dry- pulled taut over the crates and bags beneath. The motor began to start up, and thus he waited a bit longer while the two shouted at one another over the noise. They surely wouldn't hear him. Creeping down the bark with silent leathery mitts, Slate quickly crept along the rocky bank and approached the back of the boat. While the two men had their heads turned, he hoisted himself up inside, being sure to keep his bow and quiver handy in case he needed to make a quick kill.

Without another moment to lose, he disappeared under the tarp. There was a minute of silence as the outcross cringed, knowing fully well that he had disturbed the weight and caused it to rock unpredictably. "You feel that?" one of the men muttered under his breath. It was a pudgy one, a faint tremble of fret tainting his tenor vocals.

"Pro'lly just a fish knockin' on the side of the boat. You worry too much!"

The vessel began to move and Slate held on, beginning to feel a bit uncomfortable with both the close conditions beneath the tarp and the rocking of the boat itself. His lips parted, allowing a few nervous huffs to pass through his glinting teeth before eh swallowed the noise just begging to escape his throat. He had to focus. If he blew his cover, who knew what they would do. Maybe they had guns, and judging by the messy situation that had taken place only a day before, he knew that his arrows were no match for flying lead and terror.

His ride to the other side of the lake was smooth from there on out, yet Slate still couldn't shake the uneasy feeling in his guts. It wasn't until the boat's engine began to die down that he understood they were close to land. He backed himself up into a corner, suddenly realising that they would surely check on their cargo before heading onto land. Slate's heart began to hammer in his chest. Where was a way out? Where? His head careened back and he peered through a crack in the tarp, noticing nothing but blue sky. He took this as a chance and fled, breaking into the open. He was met by curious and horrified faces. The little village was a clutter of cottages along the waterfront, all connected to a singular large dock; torches flickered and danced where they were lit like lamp posts along the way, all equally spaced out in a massive line.

"Oh my god, it's a fuckin' ape!"

Slate panicked once more. He had never seen this many humans in one place- at least not for a long time. The Colonel was brought to mind and he immediately leapt up onto the unsteady little loading station, unsure of his land legs at this point. Someone screamed, others gasped, eyes latched onto him. Children were pulled to their mothers, fishers abandoned their poles. The ape flinched back as he was approached by a pleading face and two big brown eyes, snarling at her. His adversary reeled back, just as one would from a vicious mongrel, and he could see the fear within her gaze as he galloped past her, rushing for the nearest patch of green. He leapt and propelled himself off a building, launching his body into the backwoods and scrambling along shingles. The shouts slowly grew more and more distant, and eventually he stopped and gripped his pounding heart.

So many human beings in so little time. They were tall and hairless and grotesque. Nothing like his Krissa. Slate caught himself. _His_ Krissa? The title rolled within his head for a moment, washing between his ears for a moment. It stuck, oddly enough. Satisfied, he shot another glance over his shoulder and found his bearings once more. Where was he to go now?

He had to find her.

* * *

This hadn't been as easy as Slate had thought it would be. There was a short amount of woods, yes, yet hardly any trace of the young woman's presence. He sat within the trees overlooking the little town square, going unnoticed by the villagers below for the time being. They were deaf, it seemed, to their surroundings. His dark fur blended in with shadow, his long face framed by branches, bulky body motionless in the nook he had nestled himself into. The old fir swayed and creaked beneath him, needles rustling peacefully. To find Krissa should have been something as simple as plucking a cardinal amongst sparrows, but now it had turned into a task that could only be described as trying to find a needle within a haystack.

So, instead of continuing, he was now nothing but a disappointed, frustrated, and highly irritable mess. Human voices were so annoying, like whining gnats swarming around one's head. They squealed in his ears, they flew into his eyes, they landed and gathered upon his thick, coarse charcoal coat.

"You said he was carryin' a bow n' arrow?" A familiar voice caught within his ear canals and his head rose from where it had rested upon his forearms. Nic. It felt as if it had been forever since he had heard his stupid nasally tone. "Were there any other distinct features?"

"It moved too fast for us to all get a good look at it," replied his companion, moving after him through the small groups of people passing by. It was the pudgy man, wearing his coveralls, gloves being thrown around in gesture. "It was huge though."

One of Nic's hands reached up to the back of his neck and he gave it a gentle rub, shaking his head. He seemed exasperated. Was he glad that he had left them behind? Of course he was. Slate was just as glad, but for some reason, this left an uneasy pit to grow and fester in his belly. The male hadn't contacted them like he had promised to, which had evidently left the entire colony asking questions. "Jonas ain't gonna like this," Nic muttered, head shaking.

Eventually the two grew out of sight and Slate was left with a choice. Should he follow after them and see where they were heading? Maybe he could corner the man and get some answers.

 _Yes_ , Koba whispered. _Good idea. Scare him_.

Lifting himself up, the chinobo began to amble along, swinging himself through the trees. Leaves fluttered down to earth, startling those passing by, but he could honestly care less. He just wanted to find Krissa, and if him being spotted was what it took, Slate was completely prepared to expose himself right at that moment. Determination filled him once again. He snuck silently along the treeline, throwing himself above their heads like a bullet, yet going unnoticed. Humans were incompetent. If they hadn't spotted him by now, there was no guarantee they would spot him at any point.

"Listen Hershel, I know you ain't a fan'a these things, but you can't just force a gun in their face and expect 'em to scare like a regular animal," Nic explained to the other man, coming to a stop near the edge of the fence-line. "They think, they feel. They're smart too, sometimes more than we are."

"I know man, but we've got kids here. With one of them on the loose, who's to say there won't be an uproar. They're all already as scared as it is with winter comin'." Hershel edged closer and placed a hand on the tense being beside him. His voice dropped, as if someone would hear. "Look, I know you know these things better than Jonas does. You've seen how quickly things can go south. After the battle at San Francisco, people were scared, but you changed their mind. You can do it again."

Nic placed a hand on his hip and pinched the bridge of his nose. A grumbling sigh escaped him, clearly disgruntled by the man's insistent mannerisms. "Yeah, yeah, I know," he dismissed softly, then shook his dark crown. "I've got somethin' to take care of. Just... don't talk to Jonas about it until I've at least looked for the thing."

"You sure about this?" Hershel asked, apprehensive.

The other man was already waving him off, hooking the toe of his boot into one of the chain-link and pushing himself up over the top. He landed with a grunt in the dead leaves on the other side. "Very," Nic confirmed. "And if they won't listen to me, they'll listen to Krissa. She's got a story to tell, after all."

Hershel offered him another cautious look. It was his turn to sigh this time and he shook his head, turning away with a wave. "Alright buddy, see you later then. Good luck."

"Much appreciated!" Nic called back. The two parted ways and Slate watched with observant hooded eyes, observing how he weaved through the clutter of trees to a path not too far off. Everything was painted sunflower, russet and umber. Slate bore through the chilly wind as it combed its frigid fingers up through his coat. This weather was becoming exhausting. What he wouldn't give for another sticky-hot summer's day near the waterfall, guarding the shamans as they searched for their precious medical plants.

Drawing himself from his moment of though, the raven simian caught himself on the nearest branch and swung himself in a steady rhythm, following after the oblivious man with every intention of finding the woman he worried constantly about. He hadn't seen her for what felt like months... how was she doing, he wondered. Slate paused from where he hung for a moment, watching Nic grow farther and farther away from him before allowing his eyes to drift ahead. Perhaps it would be a while before they reached her. Despite understanding this, he couldn't deny how excruciating this was. She was so far yet so close. Slate felt a pang of something wash up into his chest and continued on at a rather quick pace, trying to catch up with the male. The duo meandered along in silence, the chinobo not even daring to so much as breathe in the human male's direction.

The path lead the two of them to a large meadow filled with skinny birch trees, their pole-like trunks covered in papery bark that could only be compared to the parchment used while cooking meat. Slate held back, knowing fully well that he would surely be spotted- his dark coat was be stark in contrast with the grey stretch above and their lanky white trunks. He would stick out like a sore thumb.

Once Nic was out of sight down after descending a slight slope, he waiting a few extra moments, simply taking in the woodlands. It was funny; there was not a trace of birdsong in this particular area, and yet he could hear some off in the distance. Slate sucked in a breath, sudden realisation hitting him hard. It was because of him, wasn't it? Suddenly uncomfortable, the ape continued on, warily glancing around. Did his presence really make that much of a difference? Maybe it was just the woods themselves... after all, the presence of man was a rarity these days. Once again, he managed to catch up with the survivor, approaching the thinning trees and the steady lapping of water.

Oh, could he take any longer? Along the bank the man traipsed, enjoying the scenery around him. The lake was a magnificent sight, Slate had to admit as he watched the waves across the dark green water. Autumn colours sang in both the water's reflection, as well as painted the shoreline and endless ocean of forest once green. Slate drank in a massive breath of fresh air and then turned his amber set back over toward the human he had been following.

Finally, they rounded the edge of the shoreline and found it: a small little lakeside property with a balcony overlooking the water. It only looked big enough for one person. The windows were cracked open near the back of the property, the sound of dishes clinking and the soft, faint traces of esters filling his nose giving away that she must be cleaning inside. The chinobo itched to fling himself down on the wrap-around porch and pound on the windows to get her attention, but he remained stagnant. What if she didn't want to see him anymore? What if she wanted to stay with the humans? What if she had forgotten him?

That was dumb. Krissa would never forget him, but what if she were _different_? The ape carefully grappled the tree's trunk and began to pull himself up until he found himself a seat in an old squirrel's nest. The leaves were wet and thick, cushioning his backside as he waited and listened with strained ears. A couple of knocks on the front door caused the clinking in the kitchen to stop, and moments later there was the sound of pressure being released within the home. The egress hissed and Nic's voice caught the air. Slate leaned, trying to listen in on what was being discussed.

"How's Liepa?" he asked.

Who was this Liepa? Silence followed and then Nic chuckled. Pinching his eyes, Slate couldn't quite understand why she wasn't speaking to him. Perplexed, the male edged himself out onto a branch and carefully lowered himself down on top of the rough surface of the home's roof. Slowly the two became visible, facing one another and standing parallel with the cabin's front.

There she was, just as he had remembered her, only divergent. Krissa wore fresh clothes he had never seen before, her hair cut shorter, like it had been when he had met her. Her throat was bandaged, this time in sticky-looking white gauze, yet she looked colourful and lively. Slate felt a breath of relief seep from his lungs as he saw that she was still using sign language.

Then it hit him. She couldn't talk.

"She's young, it's normal for them to rest," Nic reassured, reaching out and tucking some hair behind her ear in an endearing gesture. Slate gritted his teeth, a spark of jealousy igniting in his stomach at the sight.

' **I guess** ,' she signed simply, although Slate could tell that she was having a hard time expressing herself to someone so asinine as Nicolas. Without her voice, she was missing her main means of communication, and the ape highly doubted that anyone understood sign around these parts.

"Have you eaten this morning?" asked the man, expressing concern.

' **Yes** ,' she replied, nodding. Her tongue passed over her bottom lip. She looked thinner than before. Slate could understand Nic's worry, unable to fight his own unease at the sight of her frail frame. Muscular as always, yes, but not as toned as he had remembered.

Nic nodded. "Good. Keep it up." The man then offered a flat smile. Turning himself around, hands on his os coaxe, the survivor looked out over the water. Kris crossed her arms and hugged herself against the breeze, observing the trees. Slate's gaze bore deeper into the back of their heads as they observed in silence, for a moment standing at a comfortable distance apart. It wasn't until Nic turned his crown around that he saw a startling difference in how he had once gazed at her. His eyes were soft and cautious, almost as if he were unsure of how to approach her, yet unafraid of what she might do if he reached over. Eventually, after a moment, he smiled and closed the distance between the two of them, pulling her into a hug and planting a kiss on her forehead.

Krissa embraced him back.

Slate felt his brain short circuit and forced himself to look away, stepping back in order to stand beside the cabin's chimney while balancing himself with a careful hand. He felt the overwhelming urge to hide. Swallowing thick in his throat, he eventually settled back upon his haunches. Their small talk continued for a while until Nic began to mention that he needed to get a move on. Although still feeling a bit queasy from the sight of the two holding each other so dearly, the chinobo watched the male go and listened to the screen door clatter shut, leaving Krissa to return to her usual duties.

Would she really be happy to see him? She seemed so colourless, so inanimate and almost... sickly. With a deep huff, Slate's teeth flashed and he shook his head. No, he mustn't think of that. She would be alright. She would adjust, she just needed time. After a little while of contemplation, Slate dropped himself and hung from the eavestrough, the metal creaking beneath his weight. The window was partially open, the screen allowing in the fresh scent of pine from the woods. Her head was down, focusing on washing the dishes. The room behind her was bathed in tinny light, highlighting the glossy features of a small table and a chair. A bundle of dying flowers sat in a partially-filled vase.

The smell of something sweet filled his nose, although it was mostly blocked out by the substance she was using in the hot sudsy water at her fingers. Slate admittedly found this mesmerising, watching her wash and then set the dishes aside with a swirl of her sponge and a rinse from the tap. With a hesitant finger, he tapped the glass. Her head shot up and it took her a few moments to eventually register who exactly was in front of her. Slate smirked.

Her freckled face instantaneously exploded in pure elated radiance, stunning chartreuse-and-brown eyes latching onto him and drawing the very soul from his body. She was beaming and a soft, choked gasp escaped her lips, immediately abandoning the task at hand and wheeling around, heading for the front porch. Slate dropped to the wooden beams beneath him and hopped up over the railing to the soft earth below. He was around the side of the building in an instant and stood bipedal just as she bolted from the front steps.

Before Slate could really conclude what was happening, the girl had flung herself at him and their bodies collided. He held her tightly, their grips fierce as they tumbled to the ground, rolling once or twice until they were a ball of relief and comfort. Slate took greedy sips of her scent, squeezing a bit too hard and earning a grunt from her in protest. He couldn't help it. She was so warm and so close- closer than he had felt her in a while, and it made his guts tie into a series of hard knots. " _Kris_ ," he breathed. After a few moments of lying in the needles and cool earth, they pulled away from one another, limbs untangling themselves. Krissa brushed a few stray curls from where they rested atop her brow with flitting hands, the dimples he had missed so dearly making an appearance as she smiled wide enough to break his heart.

Krissa's hands found his face and he shut his eyes tight, letting out a heavy, trembling huff, a great weight lifting from his shoulders. ' **You're okay** ,' was all he could sign. Slate pushed forward from where he sat upon his short hind legs and he buried his face into her shoulder and neck, pant-chuffing and groaning. Part of him didn't want her to see him like this, but the other half was simply exhausted from holding onto his pride for so long. ' **You're okay**...'

Eventually the two parted after what felt like a solid ten minutes of simply sitting like that, one of her hands gently stroking his back and pate, as if reassuring him that this was real. Finally, they drew apart, tears very apparent on her face. ' **I thought I'd never see you again** ,' she gestured, a broken hiccup escaping her throat. A pang of guilt and alarm struck him all at once. He reached his hands out and used his thumbs to brush the warm brine away, shaking his head and croaking.

"I did too," he replied, feeling as though he were out of breath. She sniffled and shook her head, leaning forward and allowing their brows to press together.

"..missed... you so bad," she croaked suddenly. It sounded as if she had been struck with laryngitis, the sound crackling and wet in her broken vocal chords.

Slate nodded, knowing all too well. "Everyone... misses you. Salt, Poppy, Lake."

Krissa pulled back. "Cor.. _neli_..us? Maur - _ice_?"

' **All of them** ,' he signed, confirming. A smile twitched at her lips. Although he didn't want to, his eyes drifted down toward her damaged neck. ' **Hurt**?'

Her hand slowly came to find his own, stilling it in its tracks. She nodded. ' **A lot. It hurts most when I try and talk**.'

' **Then just sign. Don't strain yourself** ,' he responded, offering a chiding look. If she were doing to force herself to use her voice, she would have to do it some other time. He couldn't bear to see her in pain. Slate's probing eyes began to really take her in then. ' **You cut your hair**?' Her smile grew a bit wider and she nodded, nose scrunching up the tiniest bit. The chinobo could feel his own smile slowly creep up onto his lips and reached out, brushing a hand over her raven curls like one would with their dog. ' **It looks nice**.'

' **So do you** ,' she complimented in turn, squeezing one eye shut beneath his touch. His heart hiccuped and his amber set widened in bewilderment. Had she just complimented him? He wasn't sure how to respond to that. ' **Stronger than I remember**...' Slowly, her simper melted away, her brows tightening slightly. ' **More tired too**.'

Sniffing, Slate shrugged his shoulders with a gentle bray, rolling his eyes and glancing away. She could always read him, just like an open book. He hated it sometimes- she wasn't his mother, or his sister. ' **I'm fine** ,' he brushed off. Eventually returning his attention to her, he offered a dull look and she drew away with a soft laugh and a shake of her head. She knew well that he hated to be fussed over.

' **Do you want to come in**?' the ravenette suddenly asked. Slate grew rigid. _Him_? Go inside? Inside of a human home? His lips parted in question and he tilted his head, apprehensive and unsure as to whether she were being completely serious. 'Come on, I'm sure it won't hurt... maybe you can meet Liepa.'

Another sceptical glare was sent her way, but it seemed he didn't have a say in things as she grasped hold of his wrist and lead him forward. He staggered up the stairs in tow, trying to keep his balance as the two both stood bipedal. Krissa was soon opening the door, and before he could really understand what he was getting himself into, he was standing in the mouth of her hut. The simian's hand rested upon the string of his bow and he lifted it up over his head. Walls stained with deep russet came into view, a small nook set off to the side for shoes and boots. Her coat hung from a crooked hook.

Slate suddenly felt incredibly small in comparison to this cramped little home. He had only ever been inside of a few buildings, those including the metal cages the Colonel had stuck them in up in the mountains. The memory of a cold iron shovel in his mud-drenched arms brought back unwanted shivers. The ape bit them back and looked to Krissa immediately in order to distract himself. She stood in the junction between the hall and the small scullery, her eyes trained upon him. A familiar warmth crept up into his belly.

' **Are you hungry**?' she asked, tilting her head.

Without a response, he simply followed after her, grunting through closed jaws. He was indifferent, after all. If she were going to fix him human food, maybe he ought to try it at least once... right? Slate allowed his fingers to trail along a large metallic door, the surface cool to the touch. What was this thing called again?

"Fridge," she rasped, startling him out of his thoughts. Lips pursing, he shot her a slant and then returned his inquisitive gaze back to the mystical entrance. A _Fridge_? Part of him wanted to leave it be, but he knew that there had to be something rewarding inside. Krissa, after all, looked as if she wanted to encourage him. Pulling the door open, he was hit by a cold wall of air and flinched slightly at the harsh light. The aroma of so many strange foods hit his nostrils and his ears perked. Leaning inside, he hooted softly in question, beginning to pull items out and examine them out of curiosity. Slate had explored these stand-up _thingamabobbers_ before, but he had never really ventured as far as running his coriaceous fingers along its face, fascinated to say the least with how incredibly smooth it felt.

Movement to his left caused him to side-step, Krissa's long arms reaching in and plucking a carton of something from behind a suspicious looking jug. She then guided the doors closed with a smile. ' **Careful** ,' she signed, or as best she really could while using one hand. ' **Letting out the cold**.'

With a gesture, she signalled him to move to the small little table. Awkwardly doing as he was instructed, the chinobo paused by the wooden surface and eyed it suspiciously. An egg was cracked, the delicate sound hitting the air, and then there was the sudden sound of sizzling as the yolk began to cook. It took perhaps a minute or two for the ravenette to prepare his small snack, whilst in the mean time he explored the kitchen with probing amber stones. They finally returned to her willowy frame, studying her clothing, the angles of her shoulders and elbows, as well as the soft curve of her hips and backside.

They were familiar illustrations that he had missed so dearly.

Krissa finally turned to him with a slightly runny egg upon a small porcelain plate and set it down in front of him with a soft clatter. One of the drawers were open with a slight clatter and her hand momentarily disappeared. This peaked his interest even further, his head tilting up in order to try and catch a glimpse of what she was reaching for. There was the flash of silverware and suddenly he was handed a fork. He had vaguely come into contact with them before. Retrieving the utensil from the young woman, he watched as she tucked her hands beneath her chin and rested her pate on top, peering at him in expectation.

Oh. She expected him to _use_ it.

He was suddenly nervous. Slate glanced down at the egg in front of him and tentatively brought it down upon the golden bubble of protein before him. Calculating momentarily, he began to wonder which angle he should approach this at. His hand continued to hover. The ape finally grunted and figured that he had nothing to lose. He stabbed, popping the egg and then watching it leak across the spotless whites. Slate continued forward then, eating the treat with little finesse. Stab, bite, stab, bite, chew, chew, swallow. Krissa was laughing softly by the end of his feast. His tongue graced out along his lips and he smirked. ' **I missed you** ,' she signed again, for the second time.

Slate set down the utensil. ' **I missed you too**.'

A moment of comfortable silence. ' **Did you**...' Krissa began.

Slate's faint smile slowly dropped, mirroring her own expression. She seemed to be struggling with this question. ' **Find** **Pine**?' he finished for her.

Her eyes flickered nervously to her hands. ' **Yes** ,' she replied.

' **We did... he's gathered other apes, starting to create a band of his own** ,' Slate explained carefully, watching as her liquid lime-and-umber set flashed. Through layers of worry, he could see the eminent fear of the unknown. Her own safety was still at risk, and she was registering it, and rather quickly at that. He felt his nerves suddenly fray and he felt the need to jump across the table and calm her down. It was the hard, cold, terrifying truth, but she needed to hear it. Besides, he couldn't lie to Krissa. Not after everything they had been through. ' **Maurice believes... that we may go to war.** '

' **All because of me**?'

Slate's head lowered and his shoulders rose ever so slightly. He couldn't meet her gaze any longer. ' **Not you** ,' he responded, finally shaking his head. How was he supposed to word this? ' **Pine wants to finish Koba's job, live his legacy**.'

Her teeth clenched together and she straightened up from where she was leaning against the table. ' **I'm coming home with you** ,' she decided. The ravenette moved toward the front door, forcing Slate to reach over and snatch her hand up in his.

' **Too dangerous**!' he signed. ' **Your best chance of staying safe is being here**.'

' **It will be just as dangerous here** ,' Krissa shot right back, the two getting in one another's faces. Her eyes ghosted over his features, the two holding equal amounts of anger toward each other. Hands flattening, they swung in toward one another, her next gesture being a single-handed as her index and middle digit crossed. Finally, her fingers pinched together and pressed from her cheekbone to the corner of her mouth, eyes defiant throughout. One of her digits found his chest, prodding him firmly, earning an indignant growl from him. He didn't wish to complain, it was just startling, the physical contact. ' **It's either here or home**.'

Her shoulders squared and a croak of breathy words fumbled from her soft lips. "Rather... be with.. _you_." Again, her finger tapped his pectoral before softening. Her hand came to splay upon his beating heart. Slate enjoyed the sensation of her nails against his scalp and felt his breath hitch, their eye-contact never breaking. "Safer, and I can.. help."

Slate's hand slipped up and grasped the ravenette's wrist, yet he did not remove the extremity she had pressed to him. He held it there, in fact, as he shook his pate once again. ' **I know** ,' he replied with one free mitt. He couldn't quite understand the static charge beginning to bounce between their bodies, but it drew him closer, and it was then that he realised just how small she was in comparison to females of his kind. This creature could only be compared to a bird, fragile and delicate, yet graceful and elegant. The sudden overwhelming urge to fight for and protect this dainty woman became too great and he pulled her a bit closer, her foot brushing his own. ' **You are weak right now. Pine would not hesitate**.'

"Even if he were to .. kill.. me," she slowly spoke, chords grating together as they thrummed tenderly in her larynx. Her hot breath tickled across his face. "You're twice... as prep...ared. Cornelius... will be there."

His head shook again. ' **No, Krissa**.'

The ravenette's eyes wandered a moment longer before she sighed and drew away. Was she _insane_? Insisting on coming with him, to the most dangerous part of the Oasis, it was suicide! Slate couldn't wrap his head around the fact that she could possibly have a death-wish, especially after he had fought so hard to keep her alive. How ungrateful, was all he could think. After he had had her blood on his hands, he never wanted to see another drop spilled again- he would sacrifice himself first if it meant she was able to continue to walk this earth.

It wasn't until he spotted movement within the corner of the room that he suddenly was drawn from his thoughts. A small apeish figure froze in the middle of the hardwood, eyes large emerald pools of innocence and fear. Her face and hands were pale as a sheet against her stark coat. Slate was taken aback, subconsciously reeling away and bearing his teeth. With a nervous giggle, the white-tail turned and lunged for Krissa, who caught her with open arms as she nestled up against her damaged throat.

' **How today**? **Who stranger**?' the apeling signed vigorously, jabbing a rude finger in his direction. Slate looked to Krissa in complete and utter bewilderment.

"Liepa..." the ravenette responded. "This... is Slate. He's my ...best ..friend."

' **Not bad ape**?'

' **No, bad ape isn't around**.'

Like a cautious animal would with anything new, he paced a half-step to the side and eyed the young one curiously. "Where did you.. find her?" Slate asked.

"All on her own. In the... woo.. _ds_." Sauntering over, she leaned over so that the apeling could reach out and touch Slate. However, the chinobo had other plans, and offered a grunt of warning, ducking away from her tiny hands. This earned a laugh from Krissa, which oddly stirred something in his chest. It was an old ache he had missed dearly, and he now understood what it meant. Her laughter, no matter how hoarse or broken, could ignite bonfires in his belly.

No matter how tough or mean he could be, he was putty in her hands, and it quite honestly scared him.

The two wasted the rest of the evening talking about Poppy and how she was fairing as a newly-apprenticed shaman. Krissa showed him her drawings and he was surprised, remembering the young boy he had briefly interacted, way back when his father had still been alive. Alex was his name, was it not? Her drawings were far different, however, startlingly detailed. He could imagine how long they had taken her, suspecting it had been many hours on the front veranda, watching the day drift by, graphite coating her fingers and smudged upon her cheeks.

Liepa had somehow managed to sneak up behind him and the two had briefly wrestled- although, of course under Krissa's careful gaze. Her behaviour reminded him much of a worried mother, and for a moment, as he looked up at her from beneath the white-tail's mischievous grasp on his shoulders and crown, he couldn't help but wonder how she would fair as a mother.

Slowly daylight faded, changing from honey gold to silver and giving way to the night. At some point, all three fell asleep against the lip of Krissa's old worn-out sofa, eventually becoming a call of rising and falling flanks upon the shaggy carpet.

Slate had lost track of time. The exact moment he realised this, he rose and made for the door...

Although not before pressing his lips to the top of her wild curls, breathing her scent in one final time. The proclamation that had been buried down deep inside of himself finally bubbled up his throat, falling from his maw without restraint. " _I love you, Kris_ ," he murmured gently, voice barely a breath above a whisper, and she stirred in her sleep at this, sighing in pure content.

Alas, she could not hear him. It only gave him further confidence. Slate said it again, this time with resolve. "I love you."

Her features were peaceful and placid, as if for a moment she had gone untouched by this horribly corrupt reality she struggled through day-in day-out; as if she hadn't just about lost her life only five or so weeks ago.

Again, he said it, reciting those three beautiful yet horribly ugly words in sign this time. ' **I love you**.'

This was how it would feel, from now on- as if it would be his last farewell to her, as if it would be the final time he would see her lungs inflate, chest rising, or watch those incredible oculars gently move beneath her bronze lids. Any moment could be their final together. One of his stray hands hesitantly brushed her hair away, brows furrowed as if this were his first time seeing her as human. Slate's finger-pad faintly feathered across one of her cheekbones and then came to hover there, frozen. His large head shook and he exhaled with a great hiss of hot air, disturbing the ringlets haloing her head.

' **It's always been you**.'

Despite how Slate wished to stay there for as long as Caesar would allow him, the chinobo eventually tore himself away and knuckled around the chesterfield, leaving the ravenette in a pool of blankets with Liepa at her side. He then retrieved his bow, pausing so he could take one last sweep of the house's interior, before he finally pushed the door open as quietly he could, slipping out into the night.

It had been the hardest thing, saying goodbye for a second time, even if it were by choice.


	26. The Legion (Chapter XXV)

The voice was back again that night, startling as always. Jonas was settled in his outpost, taking a break and reading a book. He had never really been fond of reading until as of late, finding it to be a nice distraction from the current approaching winter season and the lack of resources. With the frigid weather came the looming possibility of another destructive strain of flu, and Jonas wasn't completely prepared to lose more of his community. One could only drop so many bodies in a lake before they began to see their faces haunting their dreams.

First he heard the rustling, then felt icy droplets of water drip down onto his forehead, trailing along the bridge of his nose until it dribbled down onto the pages of his novel. A sharp intake of air shot through his nostrils and he straightened his posture. "Still reading?" asked the voice. It was light and sweet on the ears. Jonas stirred uncomfortably and tilted his head up, just as he always did when he had first been visited. This time, however, he was calm.

"Yeah," the blonde replied. "It actually ain't that bad." A huff from his company caused him to swallow deep in his throat and shut the book in his hands, being sure to dog-ear the corner. He was unsure of whether this voice could be trusted or not, seeing as he had never personally laid eyes upon its owner. "What brings you back?"

"My brother is.. getting stronger. He wants.. to.. wipe you all out," the voice explained. The tree rustled to his right and he stiffened. It intended to _warn_ him of her _brother_? There were other beings in the woodlands aside from those on this island? "I know he... would rather kill than listen. That is.. why I am here... to ask for your help."

"My help?" Jonas echoed, perplexed. He narrowed his eyes up at the suspicious-looking blob of shadow above. "If you all want to kill us, how come you haven't done it already?"

"Some do not... want to kill. We broke from.. them. Parted from... Cornelius."

" _Cornelius_?"

"Our... leader." The voice paused and there was more motion from the branches over his head. A fine spray of water fell upon the top of his hat and he fought the urge to growl under his breath. He had had a hunch that this particular voice hadn't been human, yet he had trusted it... somehow, though, the way it was beginning to speak of its leader was beginning to stir something inside of him that left him feeling horribly uneasy. Was it expecting to strike up a bargain? Probably. He'd just have to see. "Some do not agree.. with his way."

"So you've split," Jonas assumed, thumbing at the spine of the book in his hands. Pulling one knee up, he left the other to dangle off the edge of the platform. "And you want me to join you in order to protect ... _us_? Or do you just want extra numbers to fight?" There was a sudden plunk that resonated out from behind him and he jerked in response, naturally startled. Twisting himself, he found his gaze falling upon something motionless yet out of place. Slowly but surely the being approached, causing his heart to fly up into his throat. He scrambled backwards a few inches, crying out as his hand lost its balance and nearly sent him toppling over the edge.

His mounting horror grew more keen as the trees began to shake, needles showering over him and catching upon his parted lips. Croaks and soft hiccups of sound filled the gaps between the creaking of branches, their numbers slowly growing until suddenly Jonas felt as small as a pin. The figure approached closer and he leaned himself back, upper half trembling to keep him from falling over the edge. Slowly, Jonas snaked his free hand toward the butt of his rifle, only to still the moment that the small frame slipped from the inky shadows and revealed itself. A tattered swath of cloth was fastened around the animal's shoulders, the mask of bone covering its face sending a bolt of terror through his entire body.

"S-Stay back," he peeped, but to no avail. The beast's lengthy hand reached up and carefully removed the coyote's skull from its head, revealing an ape, dark face decorated in strange smears of yellow ochre across the bridge of her nose and shallow cheekbones, accented by streaks of charcoal that was seemingly only partially visible, especially in the dim glow reverberating from the oil lamp behind him. Two ashen eyes peered at him carnally. Jonas opened his mouth to howl for help but was unable to do so, the sound dying out in his throat the moment that the ape spoke again.

"Apes need your help," she said. "Pine needs... your help."

The human's eyes blinked vigorously, entire frame rigid as he held his breath, waiting for there to be some sort of catch. "P-Pi-ine?" he repeated, nervously ingesting saliva once more. "What... what does he need specifically?"

"Guns," the ape listed. "Medicine, hands." Her height grew and she swung her arms out, gesturing to the throng hovering in the trees above her. "Need human help, to stop Slate and Cornelius." Jonas drew in a trembling breath, chest beginning to ache from lack of oxygen, and looked up. Eyes reflected the fire's glow, eerie and unblinking as they watched the scene below unfold. Their soft hoots began to grow in numbers, low in their throats in order to keep quiet, yet unable to be withheld due to the excitement of the situation. What were their plans? What did his community have to gain from battle? More graves, more lives lost?

A long hand extended out toward him, offering him some sort of peace treaty. Suddenly, Jonas was at a cross-roads, feeling as if he were about to make a deal with the devil. Did he really have a choice? Did _any_ of them? Jonas's mind reeled and he took a moment to explore his options. Either his people would die in these woods as warriors or they would be victim of genocide. If he agreed, at least with a few of their enemy's kind on their side, they had an advantage. The blonde's head fell and he looked toward the ape's extended hand. They were smart and they knew the forest better than any of his community did, even after roosting here for years in the comfort of their own little isolated island. Sooner or later, Jonas had known that good things always come to an end and that it wouldn't last.

"Fight," she stated, offering her final bargain, eyes narrowing slightly. They gleamed acutely, holding endless amounts of wisdom that Jonas knew he would never be able to come to comprehend. "For humans. For apes. For _us_."

Jonas took a long thoughtful breath, then grasped her hand firmly. Their eyes locked and her legion's gentle hooting grew rhythmic, almost as if it were some sort of unearthly chant. It sent chills down his spine, yet he didn't flinch. "For us," he chimed.


	27. The Escape (Chapter XXVI)

Krissa's pulse throbbed between her ears as panic began to set in. The woods seemed to stretch on forever as she flew across the needles, Liepa's face buried deep within the hood of her coat. The white-tail wept into her hair and held onto her shoulders for dear life, begging her not to let her fall. The ravenette clutched her pistol tightly, ears pricked in case anyone had followed her back from town.

Her morning had started off like any other. She had found herself waking up with the young baby curled into her for warmth amongst their sheets and pillows, the springs creaking as she sat up on the mattress and rose for the day. It hadn't even been dawn yet when she had pulled on her change of clothes and her socks, heading out into the kitchenette to make herself something hot to drink. The little cabin had been so cold, frost forming in incredibly intricate designs across the window panes. Jack Frost had always been such a creative fellow.

After a spot of breakfast, Liepa had pulled on her scarf and Krissa had collected her ration tickets, and they had headed out the door. A fine dusting of snow had fallen the night before, kissing everything with the faintest layer of powdery silver. The air had been so frigid that their breath had been visible in great coils of vapour. She had found herself wondering if she would run into Jonas, completely prepared to shoot that man if necessary. She had been ready since the day his blue-grey eyes had washed over her with the prickliness of a goddamn cacti.

Liepa wasn't a fan of him either, especially after their interesting introduction.

Things were going as they usually would: Krissa would follow the path and try out her singing voice, her throat growing better and better each day as time grew on. Winter had come finally, bitter cold and relentless, the wind coming off the lake shaking the entirety of the small little village. The chatter over their shared radio would sometimes become too much to handle and she would shut off the system, ignoring those concerned about the strength of the storm, some wondering if they would get buried in snow and be unable to reach one another. It was all so... annoying. Not that they were afraid of losing one another, but that they were afraid of the very force that had created them, created their land.

She had found herself stopping in her tracks as the sudden pop of a gun caught her attention. Liepa had grown horribly rigid, to a point where her little hands had dug into her skin too hard and she had ended up grunting in discomfort. Her pace had hastened despite her growing dread, finally reaching town in a hurry, her hair blustering everywhere in the nipping wind. The first thing she noticed was that everything was busy- too busy for such an early hour. Smoke billowed from chimneys, lights on in shops, the docks buzzing with life. The gunshots became more frequent, yet nobody seemed to flinch. It wasn't until she rounded the corner among the shops that she was confronted with something startling.

Her heart leapt in her chest as she recognised a handful of familiar bodies: Thistle, Gregory and Sharp stood a few feet from some old hunting targets set up in no particular place, guns held confidently in their leathery hands and sinewy arms. The more Krissa searched their humble town square, the more apes became visible. She swallowed and backed up a few steps, trying to calm the wave of nervous nausea suddenly creeping up from her twisting belly. "Who's that?" whispered Liepa in her innocent little voice. She huddled close in the cold, ambling up onto her shoulder and using her head as an easy place to put most of her weight, leaning forward.

"Bad apes," she whispered softly. "I don't like this... stay quiet, okay?"

"Okay," Liepa agreed, hugging closer. There was a beat as she adjusted her scarf. Hopefully they wouldn't recognise her with her hair cut so short. "Why shoot?"

Krissa swallowed and shook her head. "I don't know. I think they're... getting ready for something."

"Some.. thing bad?"

"Maybe.."

"Gut.. feeling?" Liepa prodded further, the top half of her face coming into view as she looked down at her. The ravenette couldn't help but smile as she nodded her head. Reaching up, she allowed the chimp to dangle from her arm, then extend an arm in order to nestle up against her front. Krissa slowly unzipped her coat and allowed Liepa to climb in while she rounded the side of one of the little buildings. Once the yearling was secure inside, she held close, the ape's breath hot on the side of her neck. "Quiet now..." the ravenette whispered, voice dropping once again.

"Quiet.." repeated Liepa, as obedient as always. Krissa leaned around the side of their hiding spot behind the grocers, watching those who sat atop rooftops and those who stood near one of the boats, looking at a map that somebody had splayed out for them. It seemed almost as if they were planning battle tactic, but that hardly made any sense: there were no members in their village that had any sort of martial experience. Not unless...

Krissa stepped out into the crowd and casually strolled along the banks, being side to keep Liepa hidden in her jacket even as the young one peeped out from beneath her collar for air and a quick look around. She couldn't fight the slight tremor in her hands as she watched a few familiar faces glance her way, oblivious to her identity. There were so many opportunities for them to recognise her, and yet here she was, simply walking through town without a care in the world. They were intelligent animals, but in a handful of people, who could pick her out? Nobody else but Slate or Pine. It struck her, suddenly, in one massive spike of adrenaline. Pine. This had to be his doing. The breath caught in her throat as she neared the shooting range, sound slowly bleeding from between her ears as she focused on nothing but the smell of hot lead and gunpowder, along with the dull ring from the loud explosives detonating.

Her head swung around and her breath caught in her throat. A head of blonde hair stood among a small throng of both apes and human beings, all congregated to hear what he had to say. Beside Jonas stood a figure, draped in a tattered cloak, thickly-woven twine holding a mask of marrow and bone to the back of his neck and shoulder, antlers splaying up in the air in one horrendously beautiful display. The chinobo brother stood just as proudly as his new-found ally, watching with cold, calculating eyes, his left optic startlingly milky and sightless.

"The morning of the assault, we will all gather for a brief discussion and run-down on battle tactic. For now, we ask that you refresh your hand at shooting: where we're going, we'll need our best aim," Jonas explained, voice slightly muffled by the cotton shielding his mouth. It was bitter cold, and Krissa knew that. She carefully wrapped her arms around Lips and herself, feeling the whitetail shift beneath her jacket. "While they do have the advantage of vegetation and the canopy, with the right amount of artillery, we can take them down. If we weaken them enough, we can gain the upper hand. Perhaps then they'll surrender."

A pit began to form in her belly, images of bodies cut down in a flurry of lead and claret filling her brain. Stepping from foot to foot, she tried to keep her numbing toes warm. Snow was collecting in her dark hair. "Cornelius needs to be stopped. I hope that you are all with me in this."

So, they were turning this around and pointing fingers at the wrong tribe? Jonas was so gullible, but then again, who wouldn't be when faced with the creatures you feared so greatly? Krissa knew that many of the human colony blamed the apes for the apocalypse, even if they were the ones testing on them to begin with. The Simian Flu had been a man-made disease. Man had played god and lost: this was their punishment.

War and misery.

It was only just.

The sudden pressure of somebody brushing past her caused her to quickly sway out of the way. Shifting politely out of the way, she muttered an apology through gentle lips and graciously blinked over in the stranger's direction. Her heart leapt for a second time the moment she was met with two equally startled ashen eyes. Her mind had to be playing tricks on her, didn't it? Liepa stirred within her coat. What sense did it make for Poppy to be with her brother? Unless... Krissa combed through her memories, all the way back to the foggiest from that fateful evening back at the ape colony. Initially she had thought the youngest out of the triplets to be easily manipulated and innocent from her brother, but now as she looked upon her, dressed in similar attire to Pine, a coyote's skull in one hand, Krissa's gut did flips.

Suddenly she was back in those woods, crouched as low as possible in the muck and slippery grass, trying her best to hold as still as she could. She was staring at this creature once more, an unpredictable, unfeeling alien from a whole other world. "Krissa?" Poppy breathed, gaping back at the ravenette, lips parting slightly. Her entire body had seized up the moment her name passed through the chinobo's mouth. Her voice had once been so warm and kind to her ears, but now- now it felt like a punch in the teeth rather than a gentle caress. Her hand subconsciously found her throat, feeling Liepa's head wriggle out of the collar of her coat and yet not even batting an eye.

The child's abrupt appearance drew Poppy's eyes away from her blanched face, her mind visibly churning with so many questions. Krissa could tell that she was torn, that she was confused and that she was shocked. Those questions bubbled at Poppy's lips, unsure of how to utter them. Her head then swivelled, glancing in Pine's direction, thus snapping the ravenette from her frightened stupor. Krissa quickly stumbled back, ignoring the sound of her name once more as she refused sit idle any longer. She could feel the attention being drawn to her like moths to a flame, knowing far too well that Pine would soon join them, which only urged her to move quicker. Krissa pushed past humans and apes alike, refusing to even bat an eye and apologise as she was barrelling toward home. Home. Where was home, now that the enemy was here? Wheeling around a bend, she unzipped her coat, allowing Liepa to struggle from her confines and hold on for dear life.

Faces passed by in one big blurb, becoming a muddled mess of acrylic flesh tones. How could she hide from them? They were everywhere! Her skin itched as if her veins were on fire and her blood was fighting to be let out. It wasn't until she slammed into someone and was wrapped in a set of strong, warm arms that she let out a frightened shriek, the sound raspy from the lack of vocal structure she was able to emit. "Easy, sweetheart," Nic calmly muttered into her ear. Krissa's body refused to relax as she struggled in his grasp, the sound of Liepa beginning to hoot anxiously in her ear only heightening her own fear. "C'mon, let's go take a look in Pablo's store, hm?"

' **Pine** ,' her hands skated through the air, frantic and quivering. Krissa made a point of making blatant eye-contact with the human; her lips trembled ever so softly, the beginnings of hot brine forming and welling with her lids. Why was body-language so hard for other human beings to read? If this were Slate she were talking to, he'd be just as nervous. ' **Let go- I have to** -'

Nic seemed to have other intentions, instead offering a look of warning. His brown eyes flashed, as if trying to tell her something that she couldn't quite place. "Okay, I _know_ , but just lemme-"

No, she _had_ to get away from here! Krissa shoved Nic away as hard as she possibly could, then proceeded to weasel her way beneath his flailing arms, refusing to be caught by this clumsy goliath she called her other half. Everything felt wrong right now: she felt as if she were some sort of hunted animal, ready to attack anything in her way as she subconsciously drew her pistol from its holster. Could she even trust him at this point? "Krissa, come on, girl!" he called after her, jogging so he could keep up. The moment that they had wound themselves into a quiet enough alley, she bolted. "I'm sorry, just- hey!"

It had been quite some time since she had sprinted, especially with Liepa's significant weight upon her back, yet she understood why. Her throat felt as if it were full of daggers, grating against her trachea and choking within her bronchus stem. Soon she had left behind the pavement and had found gravel, then snowy leaf-litter that slipped and slid beneath her boots. Liepa whined desperately, her hair having risen along her shoulders as she listened to Nic calling after her adoptive parent. "Yell! Loud! Loud, _loud_!" the white-tail raved, before groaning and burying her face into her hood. The woods were far more silent, the snowfall muffling the crack of semi-automatics.

"Krissa, please, just stop running! They aren't following you!"

Her pace slowly grew weary, her legs feeling like rubber. Breaths became gasps, stepping becoming staggering. All she could taste was copper. The ravenette heard Nic beginning to catch up to her, ready to grab her arms and pull her back toward him without a moment's notice, and although she desperately wanted to get away... she couldn't keep going. Defeated, she reeled to a stop and leaned forward, allowing Liepa to leap to the ground and scamper off in the direction of the thick bushes. She would surely make it home before her, she thought. At least there, she'd be safe. "Kriss-" Nic's voice was very close, and soon he took was leaning forward, mirroring her position with his hands on his knees. Her pulse throbbing in her temples and she felt as if her face were going to burst like a rumbling volcano. "Where the hell are you going in such a hurry, huh?" he breathed, exasperated.

The survivor glowered up from beneath lowered brows, holding back a snarl. Eventually the human male straightened up, face pained from the exertion of their little game of chase, and he raked his fingers up through his dark hair. ' **I'm running from him** ,' she signed, pausing to stand. "The ape that... tried to .. kill me. Or didn't you- did you not see him?"

"Oh, I saw that bastard alright," he grumbled, taking a few more quick sips of air whilst trying to calm his hammering heart. He needed to go running more often- he was getting too slow. "Just as ugly as I remembered. Krissa, they are going to lead Jonas straight into war!"

Krissa felt her ire return and gritted her teeth with a roll of her eyes. Pressing past him, she walked at a steady pace now, thankful that at least she didn't feel like she was about to throw up. Her cardiovascular system thrummed comfortably away, pulsing, throbbing, beating, living...

All thanks to Nic and Slate, the two who loved her most.

"I can't stay here," she began carefully. Her back suddenly felt extremely bare, despite the coat covering her shoulders.

Nic just about choked on his own throat, by the sounds of it, oddly enough. "You- I'm sorry, _what_?"

Her head tilted so she could catch him from the corner of her eyes. "I said that I can't- can't stay here!" she emphasised, her voice guttural from the run. With a quick flick of her small curly head, Krissa began to jog once more, the forest line in sight. She was right, and Nic knew it. Part of her understood where she had to go, too. Home. Breaking through the vegetation, she was assaulted by a wintry breeze and a gust of alabaster flakes. They coated her lips and her eyelashes, her bangs and her eyebrows; it was calming, to be touched by nature again, if only the littlest bit. The moment her eyes found the shoreline, she began to trot along the rocks, staring straight ahead of her.

"Are you _nuts_?" Nic shouted after her. Oh, so he was angry again? "You haven't even finished healing and you're wanting to leave without any supplies?" She ignored him, pressing on and heading for the little boat she knew wouldn't be too far off. The instant that she spotted its worn wooden surface, she picked up speed. "At least let Molly take a look at you before you-"

Off near the treeline, Krissa suddenly heard the soft keening of her whitetail, who she coaxed over so gently. At first she paused, cautious, but then Liepa ambled down from the canopy and quickly knuckled over. It didn't take long for her to bounce up onto her outstretched arm, nor for Krissa to hoist her up onto her shoulders once again, the two humans never stopping their game of chase. Picking up the ores, she pulled them into the boat, shoving it forward ever so hastily before giving it a push out into the tide and jumping in with a swift leap. Nic, by then, was protesting loudly and waving his arms. Her damp boots and ankles ached from the temperature of the frigid lake, but she wasn't focused on that right now. They would dry. What she was really focused on was the man who had sloshed violently up behind her and was now holding the back of the boat in place. Krissa, completely livid, wheeled around and met his eyes, their faces mere inches apart. "You aren't serious, are you?!" he gaped, breath coming out in a hiss of hot vapour. "How do you know that they'll even let you back in?"

She stood her ground, biting out each word in one clean, crisp sentence. "I'm going home."

"This _is_ your home!" His voice was loud and higher in pitch, desperate to appeal to her. She did not answer, did not waver. She wouldn't be held back by him any longer. He simply stared then, it seemed, for far too long. They eyes graced over each other's faces. Finally, the other survivor cleared his throat, eyes squeezing shut in apology. "Okay- okay, I get it, I do, I just... you can't.." Trailing off, he met her pleading gaze. Silence was passed between the two before he shook his head. With a quick arm, she picked up the nearest ore and pushed off, the boat drifting away.

Then, with a twist and a tug of the motor's string, the boat choked to life for the first time in years since the end of mankind's reign, and she was soon flying. A certain sadness tugged at her belly as she watched Nic grow further and further away, still standing knee-deep in the dark lake water. He had been nothing but kind to her all this time, and he had loved her deeply, but... part of her hadn't been able to accept it.

It had been the part of her that had wanted to be home, to be with Cornelius's tribe.

As Krissa turned herself around and faced the wilderness, Liepa hooting in question as they began their journey across the lake, she felt an overwhelming rush that one could only describe as an epiphany. She should have left long ago. Now, Poppy knew he was alive, and she was sure as the day was bright that Pine would know too. She had no other choice.

Clouds danced along the mountains in great puffs and wisps, snow covering the woods in an endless blanket of chalk and down. They looked so dark, so peaceful and so, so inviting. Somewhere there, too, she knew her family was waiting for her. She was going home. Liepa slithered down and settled in her lap, her hand finding the ravenette's and drawing her attention. The apeling's large emerald pools widened up at her in curiosity, a smile twitching at her maw.

Krissa smiled too.


	28. The Neophyte (Chapter XXVII)

_What if they won't let me come back?_

Krissa's gut clenched, feeling dread beginning to set in as she traipsed up the snowy path she remembered so well. She was deep in the territory at this point, scarf stuffed down her coat and the collar zipped all the way to the top. The hood of her sweatshirt and her jacket both covered her muss of ebony, her freckled cheeks flushed from the raw wind that stirred the trees above. The wooden giants creaked in low, droning cries of pain, swaying and bending. Fine, sparkling powder drifted through the breeze, catching sunlight and turning shades of rose and gold.

All she could wonder, as she traipsed through the thickening pines, was if they had possibly moved. Maybe Nic was right? Maybe she was a fool for travelling out this far in hopes that she would find the tribe she had loved so dearly, let alone be accepted again at all. Maybe she would arrive and the familiar mountainside village would be empty. The land began to slope upward in a familiar fashion. It was mid-afternoon at this point, judging by how the sun hit her shoulder. Liepa knuckled along behind her, curious about the alabaster coat upon the ground and how it crunched beneath her feet. She was always exploring, yet never strayed too far from her mother-figure. She wasn't _that_ adventurous.

"What do you think Liepa?" Krissa hummed thoughtfully, pausing at the collection of ram skulls that hung from their gaping eye sockets. Thick, broken branches protruded from their lids, chalky and pallid from years of weathering. Her hands worked subconsciously in order to keep them from going numb. If only she had brought a pair of gloves. Cupping her palms and blowing deeply into them, she managed to warm them temporarily. "Who do you.. want to meet first?"

Her head cocked to the side in order to catch a glimpse of the apeling, going by in a blur of charcoal and skin-tone, snow gathering in her coat as she somersaulted through a drift. With a puff of sparkling alabaster, she landed on her behind, watching as Krissa passed by her and headed along the west-facing path. "Maurice!" the apeling brayed, cheeks puffing in excitement.

"Maurice," she echoed, admiring the chaste light that the young ape gave off. "And why's that?"

Rising to stand bipedal, she looked up at Krissa, beaming. One of her hands brushed outwards before they both cast together and then away, wrists moving fluidly, as if pulling taffy apart in one long-stretched piece. ' **His stories** ,' she signed, pursing her lips.

Laughing softly, Krissa nodded her head. Their moment of brief conversation came to a close, leaving only the gusting wind and the soft call of a raven off in the distance to fill the silence. She was honestly both giddy and concerned, her stomach rolling and tying in knots from the way her nerves were fraying. Liepa was an ape, perhaps they could at least take her in, but what if they-

No. She needn't think that way. No. Of course they would welcome her back with open arms: they were her family, and they couldn't have forgotten about her. Sure, life was hard for them, especially with winter having come so quickly, but they had other things than just survival on their minds. These animals, these beings, they were relationship-oriented. Family was what they had, what they fought for, and she sure as hell was part of their tightly-knit community. Slate had made it abundantly clear that they were all missing her dearly.

Feeling a bit more confident, Krissa swallowed her anxiety and nodded, her pace growing more brisk as they went along. God, she wished she had a horse right now. It would make everything so much easier for her to travel up this hill through the snow. Liepa would love the horses, she knew it, although she was a bit sceptical as to whether she would be afraid of them or not at first. Rubbing her hands together, she hummed a soft little tune, Liepa doing her best to join in. It was one of her favourite ones, something she had come up with herself. If only Krissa could figure out the words to it.

Raising her arms, she lifted up the branches of cedar surrounding her and ducked beneath them, finding the frail yet trampled foot-path continued on the other side. Kneeling, she found fresh horse tracks and estimated how fresh they were. Perhaps she could lose the path from here, but with these prints, it would be much easier for the travelling pair. Krissa continued to follow them, her pace quickening as she found that they grew older, meaning they were getting closer. They had to be. Liepa sprung up onto her back and with a slap of her hand and an excited shriek, packed snow into her hair, earning a squeal that left her throat sore. Giggles filled their end of the wood as they raced along, ducking behind trees and throwing handfuls of snow at one another until they were both breathless, coming to a stop and collapsing into the snow side-by-side.

The sound of a flicker erupted from off in the woods, and then, further off in the distance, the call of an orangutan. Liepa shot up and hopped around Krissa, forcing her to rise to her feet and brush off her legs and backside. _Time to get a move on, I guess_ , she thought. Her hands were like blocks of ice now, even as she rubbed them together and tried her best to warm them with her breath. Finding that she was out of options, Krissa ended up forcing them beneath the crook of her armpits, squeezing them tightly. It wouldn't be too long now- they had been travelling for hours now and they had already started going uphill quite some time ago. "The land is going to get steeper, Liepa," she began to observe, glancing up at the canopy. "I'd suggest that.. you climb, but... the sentries might see you first and think you're a threat."

' **Bad apes**?' signed the apeling, cocking her head.

Krissa shook her head. "Good apes." Curling her hands into fists, she held them together. "Family."

"Like.. Slate." Mirroring her actions, Liepa pant-chuffed. ' **Apes together, strong**.'

' **Yes, apes together strong**.' Bearing her fists and raising her arms, she flashed her teeth. Liepa brayed and threw snow, dancing around her before bolting ahead. Krissa was glad she had the little apeling around to keep her company. She'd be lost without her.

Flurries drifted around her, the flakes becoming fatter and more luminous, like pieces of goose down fluttering slowly to the ground in graceful sheets. The journey ahead became steeper, the hill slippery from being worn down and used so many times. Liepa had nearly scrabbled back quite a few times, her little feet scrabbling against the snow's smooth, slick surface without a proper foothold. Each time she would pick her up and carry her, then set her back down, seeing as her boots had far more traction in the snow than her tiny hands. Krissa had to wonder how the horses fared on this path, if they ever brought them this way. She leapt for the snow bank, hands feeling as though they were being ground against little daggers as she clawed her way up. Her body tilted sideways in order to level herself without sliding back down.

Perhaps they had figured out an alternate route, one that was easier on their steeds, but nonetheless the angle made her wary. A horse could easily break its leg, and in this weather, they sure as hell needed them. Pulling herself up by a few frozen roots, she finally made it to her feet, Liepa waiting for her, gazing ahead and remaining stalk-still. It took her a minute to notice what she was staring at, but then it clicked. Off ahead was a slightly bowed tree, two dark bodies standing atop and peering at them with wide eyes of emerald.

Krissa straightened up and shielded her gaze from the sun, trying to recognise the faces in front. It looked like Boon and Leon, Hail's shaggy head visible from further off. Boon hooted, then his partner, followed by a shriek off in the distance. Liepa yipped and scrambled back behind her in fear, earning a chuckle from the ravenette. "It's okay, love," she murmured softly. "They won't hurt us."

Turning her head back up, she balled her fist and raised it into the air. After a few hesitant seconds, the sentries bellowed out and raised their own fists in recognition, which urged her forward. Liepa was upon her back in an instant, holding on and letting out breathy pants of anticipation as the ravenette dashed up the bevel and approached the distinct archway of pines up ahead. The sandy path was blocked from view, but she knew it was there beneath the snow. Every little detail in her surroundings began to pop out in her memory just as she remembered it. The blackberry bushes, the leaning crabapple tree that always looked about ready to tumble down the steep, crumbling outcrop. The mossy boulders, and then the thickening of the canopy. The heady scent of pine assaulted her nose and she absolutely _loved_ it.

Krissa was bolting at this point, skidding down across the needle-littered snow and gravel path, pressing through the dead stocks of feather-reeds, and suddenly the world was a cacophony of calls around her. Her flight into the village was joined by others from Cornelius's regiment, galloping alongside her, careening into the delighted colony. Krissa was just as elated, the minute she broke through the trees and was surrounded on either side by chimps, gorillas and bonobos alike, she felt tears spring to her eyes. Her throat closed up and she fought a sob, watching as the tribe rose to see the new arrival like startled meerkats, others flooding the clearing in order to come meet her.

Her eyes landed upon Nova among her people, the young girl practically screamed her name and rushed for her, weaving her way through multiple bodies in order to reach her side. Numerous hands brushed her as she passed, come locking hands with her while others merely felt for her warmth. Their frames were warm and immediately thawed her frozen limbs. Croaks and hoots filled her ears. Her arms swung out as soon as Nova fumbled out into the middle of the growing throng, snow kicking up as she leapt for her, the two colliding in a tight embrace. The apeling on her back joined in, unsure of this stranger yet prepared to squeeze the life out of her. She quickly drew back then, allowing Nova to speak.

' **I thought we'd never see you again**!' the girl signed hastily, large dew-drop eyes watering and welling. Her lips trembled and she broke, nestling her damp blonde head against her chest and allowing silent.

"I'd never leave you," Krissa croaked, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of the girl's head. Her eyes shot up at the sight of movement, immediately met with the crestfallen face of her leader. The girl in her arms looked over her shoulder and then allowed Krissa to step forward, the ravenette coming to hastily kneel at his feet. She offered her hand. "Cornelius, I... I wish to return ..to my spot here, among apes."

However, instead of her prince's touch, she was alarmed to feel the curled finger that snaked its way beneath her chin and tilt her face upward to study the scar along her throat. Cornelius came to his knuckles and leaned in, incredible pools of shamrock pinching in concern. Finally, his eyes found her own and she smiled faintly, a deep sigh of relief passing the prince's lips in turn. He embraced her, pressing his forehead to his own and then helping her to her feet. The next to follow was Maurice, who took her hand and held it tightly, brushing his snout with her own, before she turned to Rocket.

Her heart jumped at the sight of his injured ear, partially shredded from the impact of something powerful. Krissa's gaze found his own, one of his eyes partially blood-clotted but slowly healing. She swallowed. ' **What happened**?' she inquired, feeling Liepa tighten her grapple around her neck. The apeling drew her attention as she chattered, pointing in the direction of the other children, still standing at a cautious distance by the Education Tree. Krissa remembered that pine tree as if it were yesterday. Her head twisted around slightly and she nodded, and thus Liepa bounced from her perch and went to go make some friends, Lake welcoming her with a gentle hand.

Once she returned her gaze to Rocket, his brows had lowered even further, a hand gracing his ear. ' **Pine. Shot me with his gun** ,' he replied, sending a shockwave of anxiety through her. ' **Injured Coal and Slate**.'

Wait, that was right! Briefly she recalled the bullet wound upon his ear, but had thought nothing of it. She understood that the situation had been dire, but she hadn't thought that he had gotten his hands on guns... at least, not until she had seen him in the village. Krissa had, admittedly, been far too excited when he had visited to even worry about it. "He... killed Ilam," Cornelius remarked gravely. Krissa nearly snapped her neck with how quickly she turned to the prince. Her mouth hung agape in horror, feeling her entire body grow numb. So, he really was serious about starting this war? Krissa swallowed thickly and brought a hand to her mouth. Ilam had been such a loyal, kind soul. Oh, his poor family, his poor _daughters_!

' **We're glad you made it home** ,' Nova signed, attempting to lighten the mood. She had always been one to try and make everybody feel better, especially when times became rough.

Running a hand over her face, she shook her head. "You... aren't safe," she spoke, forcing the words out despite the tender pangs of pain within. The apes surrounding began to hoot in protest and alarm. "I came here because of him. Pine had infiltrated the island and he's fooled Jonas and the others. They.. plan to attack.. I don't know when." Leaving it that, her fingers brushed her injury and she exhaled deeply. Maurice's hand found her shoulder, his large mitt nearly enveloping it. She leaned into his touch and shivered gently.

Cornelius stared at her a moment before he lowered his head in defeat, his jaw visibly tensing. With a quick raise of his hand, the ape tribe fell silent. The entire clearing was still aside from the way the apes swayed and exchanged glances. This was the moment that Caesar's son had to fill his father's footsteps. One of his large hands fell upon the shoulder opposite to Maurice and he looked her deep in the eyes, as if searching her very soul. "We will be ready," the prince replied firmly, nodding his head. His cranium then tilted to look among those around him. He took a deep breath as Rocket hooted, approaching closer in staunch agreement.

Maurice burbled, drawing her attention. ' **For now, you must rest**.' Guiding her into the crowd, the apes continued to trace their hands along her shoulders and arms, which she outstretched to them in greeting. The group slowly began to disperse back to their daily activities, which only felt right- as much as Krissa enjoyed their company and the warm welcome, she was unsure if she could take it for too long. It was how she was as a person, and she was sure that they understood this. The ravenette felt more at home without the constant attention.

* * *

Time passed by in the blink of an eye for Krissa, telling stories of her temporary home back at the island and allowing the females with weave pieces of cedar and sage into her hair in a wreath of forest-green. It was delicate and aromatic, and rather pretty to her surprise. Then again, Krissa surely would have accepted it no matter what it had looked like. She was just happy to be back. Mist had been explaining to her that the tribe had figured Poppy had gone missing because her brother had taken her, and that was why Slate was out searching on the daily now, which concerned her greatly. She could only imagine the sleepless nights he spent alone in his family's hut, his only company being the moon that cast through the tiny pinhole breaks within the woven roof or the sound of the blustering wind outside.

She subconsciously brought her hands together, allowing them to squeeze one another before bringing them to her lips and warming them with her breath. ' **After you left, he was distant** ,' Mist explained, finishing Shell's new medicine mask and handing it over to her. With a gentle paw, she gestured to the end of the one that the ravenette was making. Frowning, Krissa peered down at the yellowed leaves and tiny little bones she had put together. ' **Weave it tightly. Wants it sturdy**.'

With a nod, she followed the female chimp's directions and then lifted it up, tugging on both ends. The twine held out. Satisfied, she offered her best friend's mother a smile and gently folded the mask together before setting it off to the side for whenever Tinker would come by to drop it off. They fell into a comfortable silence, washing off their hands in the bitter pool of water that welled and rippled in front of them, thin sheets of ice beginning to form over surface. It seemed to be constantly broken each morning to be used for something or other, but the females knew that soon it would freeze solid and they would have to resort to cleaning things in the river deeper in the territory.

Mist rarely visited the waterfall, especially after the tragic fate of her youngest child- the only thing she had to remind her of Button. From what she had heard, the two had fallen deeply in love, but she had to wonder... what had drawn her away from Koba? She had had three children with the tyrant bonobo, so she would have had to be _somewhat_ in love with him, right? These questions always itched at her fingers and tongue, but she kept them at bay. Instead, her mind found itself wandering further, toward the idea of how Spoon was fairing with the sudden betrayal of her husband. Did Salt miss his adoptive brother? What were Hail and Ring feeling as they watched Pine slowly becoming his biological father's successor?

' **Maybe he'll drift back when he finds that I'm here again**?' Krissa offered hopefully as they rose and began to wander back to the main village square. Mist offered a keen smile and a glance up at her as she knuckled along beside the human girl. Such a gentle soul... had she ever asked for any of this? Had she ever seen it coming? Krissa found herself at a loss for words: American Sign was different from Ape Sign, which is why she was still refreshing herself with it, even despite having been among them for nearly half a year. Still, she pushed her way through the sentence, although a bit sloppily. ' **Or, at least I'll make sure he does. These are rough times, he should see you guys more often. It's only fair**.'

Mist bobbed her head, the soft tinkling of the bones that dangled from Tinker's new mask filling the pithy silence. ' **You'd better. His family misses him** ,' the female responded drily, simpering in playfully nonetheless. ' **A little love won't hurt him**.'

Krissa giggled and rolled her eyes. "Honestly, when is he going to settle down?" she asked, voice breathy from the effort it took to wander up the slope. Her eyes drifted out along the forest-line, which was covered in gentle translucent wisps of cloud. 'He's got to find someone somehow.'

"Easier said than.. done," Mist remarked. ' **Doesn't seem to want to listen to anybody**.'

' **Well, he'll listen to me** ,' she insisted, going out on a limb. She wasn't lying entirely: sure, Slate was stubborn, but she seemed to be the only one next to his younger sister whose attitude rivalled his own. ' **If only he weren't so prickly, maybe he'd attract a few women. Maybe I could help him find somebody.** ' Upon her final comment, the chinobo's mother smirked further and stepped ahead, pausing and peering at her through the corner of her eye. Krissa wasn't so sure about how she was looking at her and, ergo, tilted her head in question. ' **What**?'

A soft huff of laughter passed through Mist's nostrils. "Nothing," she reassured, although it was clear that something quite different was the matter. She looked upon her so fondly at that moment. What was so funny? "You just know him.. so well."

The ravenette stared after the chimpanzee, still stunned and confused as she watched her continue her journey. Something stirred within her chest and she found her face begin to heat up. She knew him so well? What did _that_ mean? Finally, she cleared her throat and shot one more glance off at the gorgeous scenery before following in tow.

They travelled carefully to the Medicine Tree and climbed the ramp, heading up its familiar spiral without blinking an eye at the height. Inside they found the dark grey chimp pondering in herbs, sorting through them and making sure to mentally record her numbers in her inventory. With gentle bray, Mist drew her attention, and her eyes fell upon Krissa immediately. ' **So the rumours are true** ,' she signed, approaching and offering a hand. They pressed their finger pads together and drew each other into a tight nuzzle of their brows. ' **You _are_ back**.'

Once Krissa and Tinker fell away from one another, Mist graciously offered her the replacement. ' **Krissa made it. She's trying it out while she heals** ,' the larger female signed, to which the ravenette offered a cheerful, proud smile.

Tranquil, Mist and she watched as the Shaman removed her older, shabbier version, her soft maw revealed for the first time since the human had met her. She was truly an attractive female, and Krissa could tell why Rocket had picked her. Besides, they were perfect for one another: a massive brute paired with such a dainty female, whom made up for her size with her attitude, much like how Poppy had. Ignoring the painful memories the idea of the smallest twin brought, she complimented the doctor, allowed her to check her throat, made small-talk and then said farewell, following Mist in order to find another task for them to complete.

She found herself visiting with Lake and the young ones, settled down beside the dark-faced chimp while they watched Cinder and Liepa hop around together and wrestle in the snow. Their coats were covered in a gentle shimmer of tiny fractals, like two little pixies having a spat and rolling in stardust. Maurice could be heard calling their attention, which earned a soft laugh from Slate's half-sister and herself. Lake's head turned to her and her hands moved gracefully. ' **She's like you**.'

' **How**?' Krissa queried, honestly curious.

' **Eager to learn, quirky, strong** ,' listed the beautiful female next to her. The female had gone unmated ever since her late husband Blue Eyes, his death having effected her greatly. Lake had always been spunky and hard-headed, which seemed to run in the family, but she had heard gossip about how the former prince's death had smothered her flame to an ember. That didn't mean that it couldn't grow hot every now and then. ' **You're like a mother to her**.'

"I _am_ her mother," Krissa confirmed, albeit a bit quickly. Lake blinked in amazement, a moment of surprise passing over her features, but eventually they softened and she offered an understand smile. Their heads then turned, listening to Maurice and his teachings while watching the children misbehave and get scolded by Nova, whom quickly silenced them. Krissa buried her hands into her coat and she nestled against her scarf. "Her mother was... killed by hunting traps. Or so she.. says.."

Lake's head turned quickly, lips parted in shock. 'Finch lost his hand in one of those,' she mentioned, referring to one of their elders. 'It's not a good way to go.' The male was often found speaking with the younger females, always the lady's man it seemed. If only Slate were more of a lover than a fighter- he could have such a peaceful life, no matter the age. The wind gusted, crawling up her spine. Boy, was she getting cold. Shifting closer to Lake, the two huddled in the breeze together, keeping one another warm. Living on the mountain had to be the worst.

' **How do you hope to die**?' asked the chimp beside her.

Krissa blinked. She had never really thought of death until recently, after her very close call just a month or so ago. It was something that everyone faced at the end of their lives- after all, everybody died. It was a horrible thought really, but after the outbreak and after living day in-day out without her father by her side, she had come to the realisation that her time on this earth was quick and it was best spent living it to its fullest. After a moment, she turned her head and spoke one single word. "Bravely."

The two looked upon each other within a single ephemeral rift, exchanging something unspoken, until it was torn apart by the sound of alarm calls and the loud wail of a hunting horn. Their heads rose simultaneously, eyes full of hope as they looked upon the entrance. At first there was only sound of hooves across snow, but then in a cloud of sparkling crystals, the first rider came into view. Hail lead the way on a wall-eye palomino, followed by Tyler, Coal and Pigeon. All three carried rabbits slung across their shoulders and chests, while the final two members of the hunting party trailed behind a few feet, carrying a doe upon a sling, its motionless sides swaying with every step of their horses.

It was a clean and precise hunt, judging by how well they had treated the pelt.

Finally, that's when she spotted him and rose to her feet. His grey dappled mare threw her head, her wild mane flying like a whip in the wintry air. He sat straight with his bow and quiver strapped to his chest and back, amber stones washing over the crowd indifferently as he was watched by those observing. Lake shouted and clapped her hands above her head in praise, glad that they had brought home food for the tribe even during such a meek season for finding big game. It had probably taken them all morning, Krissa figured, to find an animal worth killing. Something sick wouldn't have done it: Cornelius only accept the strongest kill, although sometimes made an exception for injuries.

Her heart thrummed wildly in her chest and she cupped her hands on either side of her mouth, mustering as much energy as she could as she belted out his name above the excited buzz of the colony. " **SLATE**!"

The ape's pate jerked around quick enough to break his joints, his face painted in confusion, then disbelief. With a kick of his heels, he sped up his horse and steered her directly toward Krissa, dismounting in one jump as his mare was mid-stride. He hadn't even taken the time to catch the reigns: he was at her side in one fluent move, landing and seizing her in his burly arms, lifting her straight off her feet. Krissa could feel eyes upon them and clutched his coat tightly in his fingers, her own set latching onto the first face she could find. Mist watched with the faintest smile on her face while others gawked, almost as if they had never seen Slate this passionate.

His mother had been speaking the truth of how lacklustre his mood had been since her departure. Slate ultimately released her and returned her to her feet, lips wide as he let out a series of throaty pants. When he spoke, he sounded out of breath. "You- why are you-"

"I had to," she croaked, shaking her head. Her eyes fell away from his in shame. Was he upset? Her hands began to ramble through the air, the soft whinnies of his horse as she was returned to his side causing the male to briefly glance upon and catch her lead. ' **Pine has convinced the leader of Nic's village that you and Cornelius are the enemy. They were there, they were showing them how to use guns. I would have been caught** -' He then scrutinised her every mood, which only made her feel tinier under those burning eyes of his. He had to be upset. ' **I thought it was safer here and so I crossed the lake** -'

Slate's free hand found her own and her head flipped up, staring at him without anything to say. She couldn't even protest. He was here, his body heat, his scent, his presence. Its all she could ask for. His earnest eyes answered all her questions. What had ever happened to that cold, arrogant, bull-headed primate she had met all those months ago? The one who would scold her, who would chastise her, even bark at her? Her chest tightened and she shot forward, hugging him once more. It was her turn to bury her face into his neck, just as he had the first time he had visited her that handful of days ago, back on the island. "I'm just glad... you're okay," he replied carefully, cautiously wrapping his arms around her this time. It seemed as though he was aware of the attention they were getting now, and so he took hold of her shoulders and pulled away for a second time. ' **You were right to come back. We'd rather you be here where we can protect you**.'

"That's just it," she began. "I... want to be here to protect _you_ , to protect everybody." Krissa turned herself and brushed her hand along Lake's, then gestured to those around her. 'The children, elders, everybody.' She never wanted to see it destroyed and would die before she watched the apes kill each other just as she had watched the humans do. ' **This, what you've all created, its something that I can't sit by and watch happen without doing my part. That's why I'll fight**.'

Slate looked at her like she had two heads for a moment before he sighed, eyes washing around the entirety of camp. He nodded, slowly by surely. Her heart sang. "Okay," he assented. His gaze returned to her own, this time just as hard as she had remembered them. The primate's hand clasped onto her's and they clutched one another's palm tightly. "You'll fight."

Krissa grinned with pride. "I'll fight."

* * *

When she walked into Cornelius's hut, she found only the old orangutan waiting for her near the fireside. Not far from him sat a pile of furs, various feathers and a bowl of white paste. Krissa paused, taking in the scenario before licking her lips and frowning in question. ' **Slate said that you wished to see me**?' she motioned, referring to how the chinobo had woken her up from her evening rest and told her that her presence had been requested.

' **Yes** ,' Maurice replied, massive head dipping gracefully. He was such a large specimen, he took up a lot of the space in front of the fire that faced the entrance. With a burble, he coaxed her over with a finger, to which she followed and came to rest on the cold stone beneath herself. ' **I'm sorry to have disturbed your rest. Did you wake Liepa**?'

With a shrug, she flattened her lips indifferently. ' **Slate took her** ,' she answered quickly. Her mind was on more pressing matters, wondering if something had gone wrong, or if Cornelius had even changed his mind. She was prepared to beg for them to take little Liepa, even if it meant she had to leave in turn. Krissa slithered down from atop her knees and crossed her legs inward, brows furrowing. ' **Is something the matter**?'

The wise bornean smiled pleasantly and let out an amused croak, teeth flashing slightly in the dim, warm light. He seemed awfully chipper. ' **Something the matter**?' he echoed, clearly amused by her concern. Krissa felt her wound shoulders relaxed and tilted her head. With a shake of his pate, he scratched his voluminous chest and then returned his hands to the conversation. ' **No, no. I only wish to ask you a few questions**.'

She could deal with questions, but what about? Krissa was full of her own. Instead, though, she listened carefully and waited to answer as truthfully as possible. After all, Maurice was respected among these parts and had been nothing but kind to her the moment they had met. In fact, he had been the first to show her the good nature of his tribe, aside from Slate and Poppy. The counsellor gazed down into the flames before them in thought, a smile twitching at his lips.

' **Apes have fought humans before** ,' he explained carefully, allowing his beady set to flicker up in her direction every so often. ' **If apes are to go into battle again, they will need one of their own on our side, not just the brother of their leader**.' Nodding, she didn't dare move any further, her direct attention on the male before her. Maurice finally turned to her, nodding his head and rumbling deep in his throat. One long finger pointed in her direction, then curled inward as he brought both fists to his chest. ' **You are ape, Krissa. You are strong, and you put others first. You put family first**.'

His movements were soft and cool, like rain against fevered skin. The ravenette found them to be calming. ' **Thank you** ,' she replied. ' **I take pride in it**.'

Again, his cranium bobbed in agreement. ' **You have seen apes fight, you have been chased. You are quick and smart for a human, one of the few kind ones I've seen** ,' the orang continued. An ember popped violently in the hearth and spat sparks in all direction, drawing Maurice and Krissa's attention. With a gentle hand, he lifted up one of the sticks to his right and prodded at the coals. ' **What I wonder, though, is whether you're ready for this or no** t.' The branch was laid upon the ground again, his entire physique shifting comfortably. ' **Are you ready to fight those you've grown fond of**?'

Krissa blinked. _Was_ she ready? After Pine had tried to kill her and would continue to until he succeeded? After Poppy had betrayed them, after Ilam had been shot and killed in cold blood? After Jonas had just about murdered Liepa? Her bones ached to flee yet every inch of her burned with an ire she couldn't shake. If someone else were to die, it would be fault. She was the reason that Pine had left, the reason Pine had done what he had. It had nothing to do with their father. Her head slowly jounced, her chartreuse eyes burning into Maurice's head. ' **Yes** ,' she vowed. ' **I'm scared, but I'm ready**.' Beat. Krissa's brows lowered further. 'Why do you ask?'

Gradually the orangutan's head rose in turn, chin tilting upward. ' **There was someone before you, a human girl with your same ideals, your same kindness and empathy. She was from the city, lived in the woods back before Koba burnt down ape home**...'

Hanging on every word, Krisa shuffled a bit closer, listening to the story he had to tell her.

* * *

Cornelius stood by the towering bonfire, the smell of burning brush filling her nose. The skull of the doe they had cleaned was settled, visibly, in the middle of the pit. The marrow was turning a dark, horrible shade of smoking umber. The apes surrounding created a ring, much like that of the one that had surrounded her and Slate the evening she had becoming the Huntress. Her palms sweated nervously from beneath the leather bindings that reached to the centre of her upper arms, the puma skin heavy along her bare shoulders. A draft snaked its way up from beneath the thick hide where it swayed just above her naked stomach. Her feet were stung against the snow and stone, her legs feeling a bit unsteady as she approached her war-painted prince, lashes and lids smeared in chalky clay fluttering gently.

He held a torch, and at his side, Rocket swayed from one foot to the other. A sense of presentiment flushed through her and she took a deep breath, trying to ignore how anxious she felt that with each step, the small belt of bells chimed into the evening air. Krissa felt so light and so alien that she wasn't sure whether this was a dream or not. A drum gently thundered, like a distant storm, reverberating within her chest every beat. Maurice had explained to her that this had not only been how Mary had been accepted into their tribe, but it was how new warriors were accepted as well. It was a coming-of-age ceremony. Her heart was still up in her throat despite his words of encouragement.

It only sped up when she felt Cornelius's hand upon her fur-clad shoulder.

The ceremony began. Cornelius was the first to remove a piece of the mountain lion's hide and laid it across his shoulder, lightening the protective shell that her family had given her all these years, moving her one step closer to her freedom. Her eyes fell shut and she took a deep breath as she felt the prince brush past her, allowing the next ape to come and bless her apprenticeship farewell. Rocket came next, grunting in his chest and sliding off the opposite patch, throwing it over his own shoulder with a dramatic flap. The drum began to grow louder, members in the crowd rhythmically grunting, as if chanting in their own foreign tongue.

The third member was Maurice, who approached in all his lumbering glory. His eyes reflected the fire's light as he stared deeply into her own. Krissa felt as if he were looking deep into her chest, searching for the closest heart string to tug, before he finally reached up and grasped the pelt that lay directly below, the hide falling away and exposing her left breast. The sudden cold forced a tiny gasp from her lips, but she did not break eye-contact with the bornean before her. After a moment, he finally dipped his head with a gentle clicking sound chiming from his throat-pouch.

Fourth to the plate was Salt, to her surprise. The young male had already been through his ceremony just a month prior, and thus he looked upon her with pride, head held high as he walked bipedal in her direction. His dusty brown-and-grey coat was painted with striking white, the red streak between his brows standing out vibrantly against the alabaster. Coming to stand before her, his eyes pinched slightly in approval, and finally he reached up, pulling down final piece of the pelt. Perhaps it hadn't quite dawned on her until now that this was the same puma skin that they had retrieved from the monster that had slaughtered poor Twig, but the moment that she locked eyes with Mist, whom had joined the numbers of those perched in the leaning dogwood tree, she took a sharp breath, the diamond-like symbol in the middle of her slight chest gleaming gently in the pyre before her.

The fifth and final face that approached was none other than Slate's, carrying the bow and arrow she had left behind the evening that she had been taken to the village across the lake. Behind him was Nova, who stepped quickly, dressed in a long draping dress, tattered at the legs. Her hair fell in a waterfall of silk, blowing in the hot breeze radiating off the colossal wall of flame before them. The intensity in the male's eyes was near blinding, but she held her ground, refusing to flinch beneath her best friend's attention. Unsure of whether it was because of his burning, fixed stare, or because of the face that she was topless, but Krissa could feel goosebumps fly up along her arms, the hair rising on the back of her neck. Perhaps it was because there was a spirit surrounding them.

"Ape not kill ape," Slate growled, teeth flashing.

Krissa held down a slight yelp, startled by his tone. "Ape not kill ape," she parroted.

Cornelius was quick to add, in one powerful bellow, "Apes together strong!"

The colony erupted in one chorus, echoing their leader with voices rough, high, low and smooth. Krissa, too, joined in and took the weapon from Slate ducking her head beneath the familiar bow and string, feeling something in her chest swell once more and shivered softly as Nova stepped forward. She stood back to attention and faced the chinobo, allowing him to retrieve the bowl from the young educator and dip his fingers into the black pain.

The male began to black out her eyelids, sullying the bridge of her nose all the way down over her top and bottom lip to her chin in the thick black goo. At least Cornelius stepped forward, red dye in hand, and marked her with their typical war paint, one that Caesar had adorned so long ago at the beginning of it all. He then leaned a bit closer, indicating that it was her turn to begin. Her hands cast to her sides, like that of a soldier. "I stand!" she began, her voice projecting into the night and cracking slightly from the injury upon her throat. "I stand before you, before Caesar and the might of his memory, asking for your acceptance." The colony exchanged glances between one another, confused as to why the ceremony had suddenly taken a turn.

"I stand before you, asking for your hand to join mine in battle, to _fight_ -" Sudden crepitation cut her off just then as it perforated inside of her throat, causing pain to burn its way through her vocal chords, as if acid had surged from her stomach and stung the back of her oesophagus. She swallowed hard, gritting her teeth and stamping her foot in frustration. The bells chimed and her hands vigorously moved. ' **Asking for you to join hands with me in battle, to fight for the freedom of apes and humans alike**.' Jade disks fanning around, she searched the crowd. Everyone seemed fixated on her now, staring her down just as they had when she had taken her role up as the Huntress. ' **I ask for you to allow me to join your ranks, and stand against Pine and his colony**.'

Slate's fist rose. Maurice's fist rose, Rocket's fist rose, and then Salt and Nova's. Cornelius watched with curiosity as his tribe slowly joined in, their surprised silence turning into yowls, hoots and barks. Krissa felt a surge of emotion and forced her eyes shut, but she was too late. Tears welled and surged down her cheeks. A soft hitch in breath, and she knelt before Cornelius, offering her hand in a gesture to ask for acceptance, for forgiveness.

His coriaceous fingers passed over her palm and her hands flew to her mouth to silence her soft sobs of relief, the wind's mournful scream drowned out by the thundering of the drum, by the wailing horn and the paroxysm of primate calls. A set of hands found her shoulders and she was helped to her feet, her damp face chilled in the winter wind, her skin numb in the blustering weather. Slate looked upon her with respect. "Welcome home."


	29. The Crusade (XXVIII)

**WARNING : This chapter contains heavy description of gore and violence. Reader's discretion is advised.**

* * *

A lone figure travelled upon horseback through the Simian Forest, the only faint sound breaking its waning silence being the crunch of snow beneath the dark chestnut's hooves. The messenger wore a heavy coat with a fur-lined hood and sleeves, a thick scarf bundled up around her scarred neck and throat. Her face was painted with sedimentary powder, brow marked with lines of ebony, across her eyes and the ridge of her freckled cheeks bones. Her vivid hazel eyes were liquid lime and tonic, lips hidden behind threads of robust wool excreting frosty clouds of steam. Snow fell quickly around her, on the look out for any movement surrounding her. Her bow and quiver rested confidently upon her back. Her eyes found something out of the ordinary and she slowed her horse with a gentle tug of the reigns and a murmur, slipping off the bare back of the handsome stallion. It was a long, clean cut in the wood of one of the nearby trees, leaking sap down the surface of its rough bark.

Krissa could tell it was fresh, judging by how fresh the oozing treacle-like substance was. Her eyes found the next tree, the slits growing more frequent, all pointing in the same direction. She took a deep breath and turned, quickly tying her horse to the nearest branch and heading following the wounds. It took her a while to find the clearing, but when she finally did, she stepped out like a doe would into a field typically favoured for hunters. Without the tree-cover, she felt horribly vulnerable, fighting her own instinct to rush back inside and hide in the dead vegetation. Her head swung to one side, finding as she swept the entire clear that it was abandoned. Once she turned to the other, she gazed upon what looked like an old broken-down truck. On top sat a cloaked figure, a skull adorned upon his head and a set of antlers pointing to the gun-metal heavens. Her fists balled. He sat motionless, like a vulture watching its prey, observing her as she moved so carefully toward him.

Once she was at a comfortable enough distance, she stopped, ankle-deep in snow. The wind whipped around her, stirring the few locks of raven curls that stuck out from her hood. It was so quiet. Not even a single bird sang, not even a raven. She knew they were waiting out in the bushes. It was when they stepped out, she hadn't been anticipating the number of them. Thirteen of them, a mixture of human beings and apes, joined their leader, two of them climbing from inside the rusting vehicle. Eventually, Pine reached up and pulled back his mask in order to speak to her. His partially blind gaze settled upon her and she bit back a shudder. "I'm surprised that they keep sending you," Pine marvelled. "I thought they would.. send a scout."

"I am a scout," she bit out. The ape was visibly surprised by the strength in her voice. Three other times she had brought him a message from Cornelius, and three other times she had signed her responses. The first time, Pine had sent a scrawny human boy to deliver his request, going as far as meeting them at the sentry outpost. Directly after the message, he had moved to shoot himself with his own glock, but instead of doing so, Krissa talked him down. The cruelty of Jonas and Pine's wrath was astounding. The request was to send a single horseman out at dawn, have them travel until they found a trail of marked trees, and to follow them. There, they would find him waiting to speak to the messenger. Each time, it was Krissa who they had sent. Each time, she would remain silent and stick with yes or no answers. Each time, Pine would act just as disturbed as before. Not today- today was different.

Pine tilted his head slightly and looked her up and down. " _You_ , a scout?"

"A warrior, a scout, a fighter," she listed, keeping her eyes as steady as possible. She glanced among the apes, who looked at her warily, unsure of how to react, of how to take her in. Bringing her hands to her chest, she gave it a gentle beat, then allowed her hands to fall at her sides. Pine examined her like he would an insect as she continued and it only caused her anger to bubble up into her ribs from where it had simmered steadily in her stomach. "An ape."

The air was still, very still, until one of the humans Pine's band began to laugh. Soon it became two, then three, and eventually the apes joined in, chortling filling the entire clearing. Krissa's eyes never fell away from the male in front of her, who glowered at her in all his ugly glory. He, among the others, seemed to be the only one who was displeased. Soon however, his long facial features churned and moulded themselves to that of a proud fiend, looking over his trove, a smirk lacing his lips. A deep, throaty croak escaped him and the others fell silent, one of the humans coming down with a sigh, wiping his eye free of laughter-sparked tears.

With a graceful jump, he landed in the snow and began to approach her, growing larger and larger with each step. He reached up and she flinched, although received nothing but a pat on the shoulder. The collision was heavy and hard, coming off as more forced than he had most likely intended. Krissa was confused and glanced at the other in question, only to suddenly be socked in the gut by the end of his rifle, earning a sharp grunt from her as she fell into the snow. She choked on the air now knocked from her lungs and writhed, rolling over and feeling the contents of her stomach suddenly rush out in one convulsing gush. The aroma of bile floated up into the air, steam coming off the puddle as it would fresh horse manure.

Pine kicked her over before she could struggle to her feet and squished her jaw in one of his large hands, pulling her up so he could face her. One eye shut against the waves of aching pain resonating through her stomach and diaphragm, she breathed heavily, trying her best to keep her nerve. She had to hold on just a little longer. His hot, rancid breath hit her cheeks and she bit back another wretch, trembling as if she were a newborn fawn. "You're pathetic excuse for... ape," he hissed down into her face, inches away, as if leaning in for a kiss. "Have no.. use for you now."

With a violent shove, she fell back into the snow, just barely skimming the vomit-soaked patch behind her. Scrambling back, she rested upon her elbows and looked up Pine, her confidence admittedly shaken. "Best start running..." he rumbled, continuing on. ".. but what good will it do?" Someone cocked their gun and Krissa swallowed thick. His voice was gruff and husky, much like his brothers was, speaking low in his throat to her in order to add more of an intimidating spin. "There's nowhere you can.. go where I won't find you."

' **If you touch me** -'

"I won't, not yet. Part of the game."

Krissa ground her teeth together and struggled up onto her knees. She was ready to spit like a cobra, but held herself back. No, not yet. Almost, but not yet. ' **Cornelius is stronger, Pine. You can't win this**!' she signed. Pine took the safety off his gun and snorted, brows lowering. "There's still time. You can stop this-"

A bark escaped the male, silencing her and shaking her to the bone. Something about his natural vocalisations had always effected her in ways she wished it didn't. She could only compare them to the rattle and hiss of a beast, something unearthly- especially after the maiming he had received from his brother and damage it had done to his vocal folds. ' **There is no time**!'

"How do you know?!" Krissa exclaimed, finally reaching her boiling point.

Pine stepped forward and snarled, causing her to raise her hands as if to protect her head from any blow he threw her way. He began to vigorously sign, hands dully slapping together in great clapping gestures. ' **Look at my face, my body, your _throat_ , and _see_**!'

The chinobo's arms swung outward and the barbarians backing him up triumphantly shrieked, one firing off a bullet that sent a small murder of crows up into the air, flying for cover elsewhere in order to escape the possibility of being shot. His body then tilted the opposite direction and he squared his shoulders, voice venting from his throat at this point. Something wasn't quite right with how wide his eyes went as he began to shout at her. "IT'S _HERE_! _WAR_ IS _HERE_!" Great huffs of air billowed from his maw, straining to keep his complete composure and failing greatly.

' **Get it through your head**!' Another staring contest ensued, the two burning holes into each other's heads. Slowly, she moved and hugged herself against the cold, shuddering deeply from her raven curls to her boots. Pine sniffed and straightened his posture, turning away. "Now, I'll count to.. three, and you flee."

Krissa gritted her teeth.

"One..."

Her heart fluttered like a caged hummingbird.

"... _two_ ," the disfigured simian articulated, forcibly emphasising the word as it rolled off his tongue and stuck within his teeth.

This really was it. War really was here.

* * *

It took Pine forever to finally reach the final number. " _Three_."

Wheeling around, the maniacal outcross lowered his head, bracing and preparing to fire. He was so eager, so ready to end her short, pitiful life there without so much as a fight, just as he had imagined, but instead he found nothing but thin air before him. She was gone. The dull sound of bodies hitting the ground perked at his ears, followed by a gentle tap on his shoulder. He whirled to his left and came to find himself face-to-face with the ravenette and the pointed end of an arrowhead. He had neglected, in his rage, to think of an ambush. The others were already on their way through the bush, having been watching and waiting in the canopy, but he realised quickly that they were surely too late.

He knew that Krissa saw it in his eyes as she gazed down along the arrow.

" _My_ turn," she seethed.

The eldest sibling's gut dropped and he ducked, throwing himself down into the snow as the long-bow was fired straight over his head, missing him by a hair. It embedded itself in the nearest tree instead, followed shortly be the sound of something splitting and the triumphant call of a hunting horn: loud, deep and mournful. A deluge of sharpened branches flew forth, cutting Pine down at the shoulder, entombing themselves inches away from his old arrow wound. The flesh audibly tore as he cried out, the agonising sensation growing stronger with each movement, their ends chewing deep into his tissue and sinew. As soon as he was at his knees, he reached around and ripped the needle-like object from his dark hide, and with a snarl of rage, lunged forward the moment that Cornelius's troops burst from the greenery. Those left behind from the spontaneous assault of grass-thin daggers turning and firing in panic, breaking rank and falling into chaos.

Cries and shrills filled the clearing. Pine moved like clockwork, taking out the first ape in sight and bludgeoning him until his neck had broken in multiple places, disarming him afterwards and using his spear to cut into his next opponent from the front. With undulating movements, he stabbed and cut through, ruthlessly gutted the smaller male, the two making eye contact as he slowly died of his injuries. After the deed was done, Pine threw him to the side, weapon and all, and picked up the nearest gun. A vicious pant-shriek escaped him, the sound piercing above the explosions of homemade grenades and explosives. " _PUSH FORWARD_!" came Jonas's order. Horses ran freely, some without their riders, some with. Pine yanked a pistol from Thistle's grasping hands, the male begging for help, only to be stepped on and shot ever so calmly by his leader as he ambled by.

Saliva shown in strands as his jaws parted, the faces of those he brought down becoming one big blur of flesh and ruby. He aimed for heads and chests, watching limbs severed in sprays of claret and corpses fall lifeless to the ground. The moment he spotted the familiar shape of Cornelius's lieutenant, Rocket, he snarled deep in his chest and charged, only to be nearly shot for a second time. Pine was just barely missed by a bullet and scrabbled behind the old truck, listening to bullets skid and ping off the rusted, weather-worn metal. Rising, he shot a bullet or two, the human next to him that had covered his escape getting clipped and falling back with a blood-curdling cry.

The sound of another horn signified for the enemy to fall back, and feeling a burst of pride, Pine leapt over the front of the truck and caught the nearest horse, using its reigns to pull himself up onto the saddle. The mare screamed in fear as he reared, raising his gun and encouraging the others to follow. "DON'T LET THEM RUN! CHASE THEM!" he stormed. With a jubilant, blood-thirsty hurraw from who were left, he briefly shot a delirious glance in Jonas's direction and then kicked his horse forward with the sharp ends of his heels.

The mare whinnied once more and before he knew it, he was flying through the woods.

* * *

Things were going as planned: they were buying their false retreat and were following them toward the falls. Krissa huffed raggedly, her bruised jaw feeling stiff and her hands sticky from the blood they had collected. She had lost her coat thanks to Sharp, who had chased her down from the get-go, singling her out in the crowd in hope that he would be the one to kill her in Pine's place. If it hadn't been for Cornelius's wielding his broken branch, she would have been mauled for sure. It was bitter cold as she ran through the snow, heading directly for the river and following the others across, just as she had been directed by Cornelius. Rocket lead their party, the male already suffering from a bullet-graze to the shoulder, his hand gripping every now and then in order to stunt the bleeding. It seemed to go unnoticed eventually as Krissa and he helped the injured across, allowing them to be dropped off in the mossy rocks and crags not far from the rapids, in case they needed a quick get-away.

The strongest that were left migrated down toward the waterfall, quickly sliding down icy patches and then regaining their footing as they moved along. Rocket continuously glanced over his shoulder until they had met up with Hail's group, consisting of Pigeon, Salt, Tyler, Coal, and a handful of others. The younger twins looked about ready to turn-tail and run, their coats roughed up and blood clear upon their hands. Krissa had to wonder whether Slate and Pine had been this way when they were only yearlings. "You two alright?" she whispered softly as they made their escape up through the thicker brush. One of them graciously opened a path for her using one lengthy arm.

' **Berry has never killed someone before** ,' signed the larger twin, Thorn. Berry seemed to be accident-prone, but Krissa had never thought him that innocent of this cruel world. She had to admit, though, she was still reeling from the tension and carnage of the battle prior. There had been so much death, all around her, and they had lost some of their one for sure... Krissa was unsure as to how she had made it out alive. Maybe she was just lucky. ' **Didn't think it would be like this**.'

' **I don't think anyone your age would think war is this horrible** ,' Krissa appealed, offering a gentle smile. ' **It won't last forever... We'll win, I promise**.'

Rocket chuffed in alarm, and upon the thundering sound of hooves, the group hit the ground so hard and so quickly that Krissa felt the breath being knocked from her chest in one ripple of pain. Those quick enough bolted, climbing the nearest trees. A scrawny greying bonobo male careened into view, serpentine eyes wide with fear as he was assaulted by someone on horseback. A mangled cry passed his lips, only to be silenced by the rider's rifle. He rolled, then laid still the moment he stopped. Krissa panicked as suddenly the horse was heading directly for them, and acting upon her first instinct, she covered Berry and Thorn's heads, the trio bracing themselves for impact. Thankfully, she found that it never came, the massive four-legged gelding sailing effortlessly over-top of them, a light sprinkling snow being the only thing that hit them. The ravenette shot to her knees the instant that the way was clear and she felt her heart beat out of her chest. It was an ape, cloaked and wearing a backwards baseball cap, its material worn out from age and its colour more of a faded barn-red rather than its previous shade of fire-engine. She didn't recognise this ape, yet she sure as hell hoped that he was on their side. Going out on a limb, Krissa belted out a short yelp, and with a quick turn of his head, the horse slowed and side-stepped, the ape's eyes peering over at them in question.

The clamour of another set of hooves alerted her to yet another fast-approaching rider, the three turning quickly and then leaping out of the way, the chimp twins scrambling in either direction just in time. This rider was a man, and instead of continuing on his way, he yanked on the reigns and brought his horse to a stop alongside his friend. Krissa raised her bow and wheeled around, narrowing his eyes over at him before she recognised him. It was Nic. He had shaven and was wearing a bandanna around his brow.

"Krissa, christ, where have you been?"

"What are _you_ doing here?!" she exclaimed, rushing over.

"Knockin' some heads together," Nic responded, smirking coyly and earning a slight grin from the young woman below him. Rocket chuffed from up in the trees, stopping her dead in her tracks the minute she spotted the mounted chimpanzee to their left raise his shotgun and aim for her exposed head. Krissa raised her hands, throat bobbing nervously. The tension snapped then as Nic tuned in to the desperation of the situation and urged his horse in order to stand in the line of fire, protecting her with the flank of his roan.

" _Milo_ , bud, hey!" he warned, raising his own hands and weapon- a baseball bat - into the air. Krissa carefully peered over the horse's backside, ignoring Rocket's hands against her back tugged at her to get moving. "Easy, put the gun down! These are our friends, part of Cornelius's group. It's jus' Krissa, alright?"

"Look," Krissa quickly began, nodding over in Rocket's direction and then tilting her head so she could look up at Nic. "I'd love to stop and talk, but-"

"Yo, where'd your coat go?"

 _Men_. They had horrible timing and had no sense of urgency. Krissa tossed her head under her long-bow, placed her foot on the stirrup and threw herself up onto the back of the russet-dappled horse in front of her. Her arms wrapped around Nic's waist as she tried to get comfortable from where she was sitting upon the horse's haunches. This was going to be a bumpy ride. "It's back there," she said, jerking her head over her shoulder before straightening out once again. "Now, we have to _move_. They'll be here in seconds if we don't hurry the hell up!"

Her head shot up and she looked to Rocket for orders. He was croaking and rumbling desperately, trying to get them to move. ' **You go with them on horseback, but make sure they get to the waterfall. Be careful**!'

' **Ten-four** ,' she responded, then twisted around, nodding to Berry and Thorn, who brought the tips of their fingers to their chin and waved the back of their hand in her direction in a quick thank-you. ' **You're welcome. Fight hard, boys.** '

The chimps quickly knuckled away and launched themselves up the nearest tree, disappearing completely from view. Krissa quickly gave Nic's horse a kick and the two friends and his partner set off. As hastily as she could, she began to speak to the survivor she was latched on to. "The ambush and fall-back worked. They think we're.. weak and that we're trying to get to the waterfall. Cornelius is waiting there with the others."

"Just tell me where we're goin', sweetheart," he offered.

"Head south. Be careful, there will be a steep hill getting down into the valley. Don't fly down there.. or your horse will break an.. ankle." With a brisk nod, the man whistled in order to get his friend's attention. Her grip tightened around the rider's waist as she glanced over her shoulder, watching snow fly everywhere. Even despite her growing exhaustion, she refused to let her guard down, every little movement scrutinised as they passed by. No sign of the enemy. Krissa eventually took a look at Milo, the chimpanzee whom had been accompanying him. He bore a scar upon his mouth and a pair of angry brown eyes, greying fuzz poking out from between the lip of the hat and his brow. He certainly had good aim while on the run.

The question itched at the roof of her mouth and she gazed ahead, over his shoulder. "Left here, it's quicker," she began. Wrinkling her nose, she sighed and shook her head. Had this been what he had wanted her to come see at Pablo's? Was _Pablo_ fighting? Were there others who were against Pine? "Where'd you.. meet him?"

"Says he came from Berkeley," Nic explained, glancing at her from the corner of his eyes. The horse flew over a log and he grunted as they went down. The animal was beginning to huff with each stride. "Knew your buddy Pine's pop, back when they were younger."

Silence fell. Krissa's eyes flickered over to the chimpanzee again and she shifted uncomfortably in her saddle. She just hoped that him knowing Koba didn't mean that he had the same ideals as the deceased bonobo's lunatic of a son. After all, it was because Pine was trying to follow in Koba's footsteps that all this shit was going down. Her eyes caught sight of a nearby landmark that sparked a memory deep within her brain. "Turn right here, then weave and go straight." The bush became thicker as they went along, the path more narrow, and before they knew it, they were approaching the edge of the ravine.

"Stop!" Milo shouted suddenly, his old, crackling voice hoarse. If she hadn't been used to such gravelly tones, perhaps Krissa would have been disturbed by the sound. He had absolutely no emerald in his eyes, which Krissa found odd. How could a chimpanzee not even have any trace of green? Even Poppy had had the tiniest bit, when close enough. Perhaps he hadn't _gone_ through the laboratories? The horses came to a screeching halt. "We... walk from here."

Krissa quickly threw her off the horse's back and landed with a cuss, immediately falling into the lead and skidding down the crumbling snow and rocks. Nic and Milo followed behind quickly, heading for the snow-clumped spruces that lay in their way. The clear opened up, the waterfall's dull rush drowning out the sound of Pine and his hive approaching, right on cue. Her attention swung around and she panicked: where the hell was Cornelius?!

"In-coming!" the chimp warned, wheeling around and reloading his gun. It was incredible how handy he was with a weapon, especially for an ape. Had he had experience? She really hope he did. Shooting others at close-range was one thing, but at long-distance? Nic bolted for cover alongside his friend, leaving Krissa to scramble in the other direction. Finding the closest boulder, she skidded across the ice and caught herself on rough limestone, although not without scraping her palms. The tang of fresh blood hit the air and she pressed her spine hard up against the rock, willing that they wouldn't find them. Where was their back-up?!

A hissing huff suddenly drew her attention. "Come on out here, Nic!" Jonas's familiar tone drawled loudly into the clearing, high above the crashing waterfall and echoing through the cavernous walls. "We know you n' your stinking mongrel are out here!" Slowly, she leaned out of hiding so she could see the tiniest sliver of those already in the mouth of the ravine, ignoring how the ice cracked slightly beneath and plunged her ankles into the frigid-cold river. Krissa staggered slightly but managed to regain her footing fairly quickly. She wasn't going to let herself get spotted all because she had practically tripped herself. The pebbly bottom gave slightly and she sank an inch or so down. Jonas had his semi-automatic slung over his shoulder, waltzing over to the boulder opposite, which she could just make out the form of Milo shifting behind. Alarm shot through her and her heart went out to the stranger. In a hot second, she made the quickest decision she had ever made and bolted out from her cover, holding her bow drawn.

There were at least thirty of them who turned and gawked at her, apes and human beings alike.

"Shit..." she gritted out under her breath. _Whack_!

Something hard collided with the side of her head and she was suddenly seeing stars, sinking down to the snow. Snow seeped up through her t-shirt, her head throbbing something awful as she rolled to the side in a daze. Once her eyes had finally focused, she caught sight of Poppy, who looked down at her with an indescribable expression. So, it really was true. The youngest of the twins was just as twisted as her brother. The idea made her stomach turn, realising thay all the comfort and kindness she had offered her, all of it had been in order to trick her- to trick everybody. " _You_..." Krissa breathed, trying to get up, only for her brother's heavy hand to yank her up.

Her entire body trembled as her arms were wrenched up behind her bank, the tyrant holding her still and forcing her head up with a yank of her curls. Krissa growled at the pain burning within her scalp but stared, watching the blonde and Sharp pull Nic straight out of his hiding spot. Immediately he was shoved down into the granular, heavy, wet dunes of snow, his bandanna torn from his crown. At first Nic seemed to speak to Jonas from across the clear, their words going unheard until the survivor slugged back, tearing his arms from Sharp's strong grip and striking him straight across the face.

Fear spiked through her as another of Pine's dwindling band wrestled him down and bound his wrists with the very material he had worn so proudly. Fighting the male behind her, she bit hard on a sharp bellow of anger that erupted from her throat, coming out as one elongated growl. "Easy, human," hissed Pine, his hot respiration hitting her ear and the back of her neck, causing her to arch away from him like she would from someone with the flu.

"No," she spat back. Her gaze darted from the brawny piece of fuzz behind her and Jonas. "I will _never_ stop fighting you! I will not stop until you're fucking dead! You _bastard_!"

With a side-glance in his sister's direction, Poppy was signalled to motion them forward, and in that instant Nic froze, big brown eyes latching onto the end of the his friend's weapon as it swung toward him. The pistol rose and the energy in the clearing rose higher and higher, growing tighter and tighter. Krissa's fear drove meandering words from her lips. "Wait... wait, stop. No, _don't_ \- don't hurt him, _please_!" Her head reared and she shot Poppy a pleading glance, the smaller outcross lowering her eyes and pressing her lips together, clearly guilty of the crimes she was committing. "You can't- Jonas, stop, _listen_ -"

Nic squeezed his eyes shut and visibly flinched as the pistol was brought to his temple, his lean frame quivering something awful. It was as if he had known this would be how he went, only for them to fly open last minute, complete and utter horror spreading across his features. His hands rose from where they had been dropped to his sides for the final time and he gently signed his last words. ' **I love you**.'

The shot rang out like a crack of thunder. Nic's cranium whipped to the side in a glorious cloud of crimson, his body slumping down into the snow with a shove of Sharp and Thistle's hands.

 _' **How do you want to die**?'_

 _"Bravely."_

* * *

Several things happened directly after the gunshot: Cornelius's troop leapt from massive drifts of snow, crystals of ice and frost violently rupturing up into the thin rays of sun that bled through the dreary heavens. Pine's mere thirty was matched by those fifteen upon the edge of the clear and the other twenty along the crags and crevices on the waterfall's sheer face that poured into the water and powder below. Water hissed in a fine spray of crystalline droplets in every direction as Slate sailed out of his hiding spot behind the wall of partially frozen tears, a roar ripping from his throat as he threw himself into battle. He soared down toward his brother, his father's spear drawn and ready to strike him down for good, if not for how swiftly Pine moved in turn. The instant he realised what was coming, the hulking brute brought his gun up to shield himself and the two rolled back into the snow and pebbles.

The beating began, Pine coming out on top and bringing his hands to his throat while Slate battered his sides brutally, teeth snapping as he gasped for air. This left Krissa exposed, he discerned in a pang of alarm, urging him to keep on fighting as he scrambled to get a hold of anything- something. His hand found the nearest chunk of ice he could manage and he swung up, smashing his fist across the side of his brother's bad ear. Pine was tossed into the snow, baring his injured shoulder and leaving spots of crimson in the snow; he had been shot, but by who? No, the wound was ragged, meaning he hadn't been struck by a bullet.

The _needles_.

Tinker had been incredibly resourceful in having the females make them, the women working all through the night to make as many as possible for the assault in the morning. It had been an ingenious plan, and had saved quite a few lives in the process rather than sending all the troops, full-force into the fray. From behind him, he watched as Krissa lunged for Poppy, the two females tumbling violently through the snow, only for the smaller female to shrill and back away, hands raised. She had absolutely no battle training- why was she out here? Pine bowled his brother over, knocking him from his thoughts with the force of a missile. A battle to overcome one another came to fruition, the two brothers glowering at one another. Pine, with a smirk, rutted up and caused his brother to stumble, throwing him back into the boulder to his right. A puff of air escaped the opposing male and he exalted back, winding up for a blow.

Slate was successful at dodging the first, Pine's fists knocking some of the sheet-rock free, the sudden crack startling him. He wove to the right, only to be cuffed by a secondary swing, then a third, all sound knocked from his eardrum as it was replaced by a high-pitched bought of tinnitus. Squirming beneath the troglodyte, he managed to find an opening and dove for him at the soft flesh just between the crook of his arm and his ribs, biting down as hard as he could. The metallic taste of blood flooding over his tongue reminding him of the day they had fought so viciously over Nic's arrival.

His brother cried out and tore away, the force just about jarring Slate's jaw. Pine stiffened, stumbling and grasping at his side, before staggering to a stop and hunching over, breathing raggedly. "There's no.. stopping this, brother!" Pine shouted over the screams of horses and apes alike. A flare shot up into the air, taking down one of his fellow hunting scouts from his place in the trees and sending him falling to the ground as he tried his best to put himself out. Slate flinched and looked away, trying to ignore his pitiful cries as he slowly burnt to death in the snow. " _This_ \- this is how it has to go now! This is how.. things should be!"

"You're.. right," Slate panted, clutching the side of his head. His face felt as if it were on fire, sharp pangs of pain shooting through his right disk each time he blinked. He could feel the hot sensation of his own blood beginning to ooze from a cut left behind by his brother's talons. Slate had hoped that the next time he'd see his brother would be when he was tethered to the massive wooden spike they had erected in his honour, but he now understood that he would never get a chance to hurt Pine in the way that he had hurt him. Rolling his cranium upon its joint, he watched as Pine slowly moved for his gun, favouring both his arm and side now. ' **You deserve to die, just like Koba. The massacre he created wasn't meant to continue, it was meant to end**.'

His brother sneered, shaking his head. ' **You think I would just let his war _stop_? After he didn't complete his mission? To rule all apes and crush human kind**?'

"They weren't meant to be.. rebirthed. Caesar stopped him for a reason."

Pine threw back his head and burst out in a fit of laughter, the sound coming straight from his gut in an almost human manner. Slate's anger turned to dread as he watched his brother bring a bloodied hand to his face, slowly growing more hysterical by the minute, until finally his cackle died shoulders simply shook in silence mirth. He had flown far off the handle, hadn't he? " _Come on then_!" Pine jeered loudly, at the top of his lungs. ' **Come kill your _dear_ brother**!'

Slate's eyes made for the top of the falls, considering his options, but he had hardly enough time before the butt of his brother's gun barely missed his head. He watched the opposing male tumble to his left and wheeled around, the two somersaulting violently into the partially frozen river after impact. With a heavy splitting sound, the ice gave way beneath them and they were quickly submerged in a deeper part of the drink. Slate's head was quickly pushed under the water and alarm shot through him, the burst of fear assisting Slate in hauling himself back up, Take Pine's place and watching the bubbles spray up to the surface of the shallow, icy pool. At first something throbbed in the back of his mind, something urging him to push harder, but he was snapped from his own murderous intentions by a hard couple of blows from the heels of his brother's hand.

Pine burst from the water with a battle-cry, slamming him back against the jagged sheets of ice at the base of his spine. He could feel its sharp edges sinking into his skin, piercing and drawing blood most definitely. The faint current tugged at their upper thighs as Slate and Pine threw punches and teeth snapped at ears, until finally he managed to clamp his fists together, sweeping them upwards and using them to slam Pine's jaws together with a sharp click.

In the next few fluid movements, Slate managed to duck underneath his brother's grasp, water sloshing in torrents as he raced for the shore once more, his brother splashing after him in tow. A shot was fired as Pine attempted to take him out, the dull pain of the bullet hitting him just between the shoulder blades sending him nose-first into the water, his body becoming top-heavy as he repeatedly tumbled until he hit the ground running once more. He cleared the pebbly water's edge within seconds, scaling the side of the slippery rocks with his water-logged hands and clumsily ambling until he reached the top. It was then that his body suddenly gave in to the abrupt amount of blood lost and the great stabs of agony. The chinobo skidded, the water gradually dyeing a passionate shade of wine as he laid back within its depths, coat sticking to his frame.

A paw came into view, followed by his brother's rifle, and although he attempted to pull himself backwards, it was no use. Pine was on him in seconds, the barrel of the gun settled between his eyes. His opposite arm found nothing but thin air as he realised he was at the very edge of the waterfall's mouth, practically teetering, his brother being the only thing weighing him down and keeping him from falling. Accepting that he may have to go this way, Slate squeezed his eyes shut and prepared for the bullet to reach his brain, bringing his story to a close.

Instead of a dull momentary pain however, he heard a very distinct click and was brought back to the burning ache in his spine, staring up at his dripping brother as if he were his reflection. They were both as equally surprised, both heaving for air, their chests rising and falling rapidly as their lungs attempted to keep up with their pulses. Slate took a quick breath and winced against the constant ache, only for his moment to be stolen from him as his brother tossed his gun off the ledge and into the pool below them. Back to business. "I'll just have to enjoy this.. with my bare hands!" Pine remarked wickedly. As soon as he raised his appendages, Slate took a deep breath and lunged upward, wrapping his hands around his brother's neck. They sailed back, surprise evident in his brother's eyes. The hard, pleasing crack of Pine's head colliding with the ice rippled through him, the two sliding out of control.

Their bodies skidded until Pine kicked him off him, using his momentum to fling him up onto the opposite snowy bank. His wounded back smeared the flawless powder with a rich ruby, the crash causing him to gasp for breath, gaping like a fish out of water even as Pine barrelled toward him. From there, the warrior was bashed in the snout and the side of his head for the second time, his arms coming up to block his brother's fists as best he could until he was able to land his own blows. Slate quickly ducked and then brought his elbow crashing into Pine's ribs, feeling something give way beneath. With one great shove, his brother staggered away without control over his limbs, allowing them both a quick ellipse in order for them to breathe. It was absolutely ambrosia. He'd never take air for granted again.

"Why can't you just... be _you_?" Slate rasped, breathing heavily as his brother stumbled back and managed to catch himself, hand fastening to his throbbing head. "Instead of being _his son_?!"

His words seemed to get through to his brother, if only the littlest bit, which only enraged Pine further. In an instant of blind fury, the enraged simian swerved his way to the left, then bowed in, catching Slate from the side and forcing their bodies to go flying straight for the ground. The two landed directly in the water, Slate audibly grunting as his body bore the brunt of the impact. With a sputter, he managed to grab at least some air before his head was forced under the surface of the river, skull pressed into the stony, icy bed beneath. He fought until he saw stars, his brother's blurred outline beginning to fade until, with one last burst of energy, the chinobo thrust his head above water and enclosed Pine's neck in a tightly-wound hug, his teeth latching onto the side of his head.

There was pressure and then an explicit pop as Pine's dead eye was punctured by his bottom canid, the shrill of panic bellowing from him causing Slate to release, tossing his hands into his snout and throwing his brother off. Everything appeared to be smeared with pure carmine: in the water, on the rocks, on the broken fragments and sheets of ice- it was gruesome to look at, two brothers in a seemingly endless struggle of life and death, to see who would come out on top. Spitting out blood, fluid and parts of his brother's ciliary, he gritted his sullied teeth and watched as Pine twisted in distress, holding his injured features. It seemed as though Pine felt his gaze, however, as the demented primate slowly brought his eyes up to meet his brother's amber stones.

Slate struggled to sit up, working his sore jaw. He coughed, trying to clear more water from his lungs. ' **Is this what you wanted**?' he signed in an exhausted, cumbersome manner.

"I wanted... _her_... dead. I wanted out lives.. to _mean_ something," Pine growled, words slightly slurred. Perhaps he had harmed some of his brain behind? There was a gaping hole, he saw, as his brother's hand fell away from his wounded eye. " _I_ wanted to mean something.. to my _real_ father!"

"You meant something to us," Slate forced out, feeling his anger turn to a deep, forlorn ache. "You could... have meant something to her- to Cornelius- to our _mother_! Wasn't enough? Their... love?"

Pine let out another laugh, only this time it was a low, deep, cynical chuckle. "What _mother_? That... that female who .. fell out of _love_ with Koba? Or do you mean.. do you mean... Mary? The one who watched us.. grow, watched us.. helped us learn what love was?" Blood was sopping the entirety of the left side of Pine's complexion as he snickered. Slate could feel that dull ring of fury beginning to rise up inside of his skull. What was he talking about? "Do you .. even remember her face?"

"WASN'T IT ENOUGH?!" Slate vociferated, the memories of endless auburn hair, music and silken purple and gold-embroidered cloth coming to mind. ' **Wasn't our love enough**?!'

"It.. will _never_ be _enough_!" With a sudden explosion of speed that hadn't anticipated, Slate was smashed down into the riverbed yet again. Gravel ground into his wound, causing him to yowl in pain, only to be shut up by his brother's fists. He snapped at thin air, waving his hands around and pounded at his arms until he suddenly felt something on his brother's shoulder; it was a gap in the flesh, the wound he had noticed earlier. In one move of desperation and hope, he grabbed hold and buried his fingers into the muscle, nestling them deep inside until Pine threw his head up, tearing Slate's blood-soaked digits from the meaty part between his trapezius and deltoid.

Within this whirlwind of action, Slate caught sight of a smaller figure on the spur of the moment, throwing its arms were up over its head as it prepared to bring something down on Pine's unsuspecting head. His reaction seemed to reflect within his face, startling Pine enough to duck just as his saviour swung his father's spear at him, and as the weapon came down, the bigger ape snatched hold of it and threw it to the side. Fists curling, his twin struck down the female in question with a mighty stroke of his arms, simultaneously shouting one single word.

He jabbed a finger at her. " _YOU_!"

* * *

 **WHAM**! Krissa was knocked back into the snow by one of Jonas's fists, pain engulfing her entire face as her nose began to drip with liquid the colour of roses, its coppery aroma leaking down into her mouth as the blood filled her teeth and coated her tongue. She was unarmed, her long-bow long since snapped in two when knocked over by a charging gorilla. Twice she had had a brush with death and twice she had been saved by Rocket, but at this moment she had nowhere to go. Her left eye was slightly swollen, her lip busted and nostrils now aching. The amount of blood she had lost was dizzying, and as Jonas raised his gun to shoot her, she could only guess where she was going as she tried to drag herself along. Reloading a cartridge, Jonas glowered out from beneath ragged, dark eyebrows, his teeth bared and yellowed from smoking cigarettes.

The barrel wound itself back in place and he aimed, stalking toward her until he was inches from her, pressing her head back into the snow drift with the cold metal of the python's deadly snout. Tilting her head up, she opened her mouth and clamped down, watching his anger turn to confusion as she pushed forward, using her front pearly-whites to hold it in place and back him up. Jonas pulled away in horror. "You know..." she began, low in her throat. Her anger vibrated up her hands. "I always knew you were afraid of me."

"Me? Afraid of _you_?" simpered the blonde, snorting in response. She watched a bead of sweat cut through the blood staining his grizzled face. "You've got to have a few screws loose from living with those things."

How could he remain so calm after murdering a man he had once called his friend? Krissa remembered those nights she would visit Jonas and his wife, and how Nic and he had shared a beer or two, singing along to old records that they surely wouldn't listen to if the world hadn't come to an end. Something feral beat deep within her chest, something carnal, something savage. It turned her face red, it forced the tendons in her neck to twinge, a vein of anger running across her brow. It filled her until she shook so hard that she couldn't keep her hands steady, and with nothing in her hands to beat and bash him with, the ravenette's legs coiling like that of a wildcat and she sprung from where she sat upon her knees. She locked onto him with vicious hands, snatching his wrist and twisting her entire body with all her might, wrenching the gun out of his hand. The weapon fell into the snow and she used his body weight against him, the two collapsing into the snow.

The light around her dulled as she was struck by one of his flying hands, the hot illustration of the side of his flattened mitt stinging from the impact. Krissa felt him wind up again and rolled out of the way, her nails digging deep into his face as she wrenched up and bit down hard upon the bridge of his nose. She refused to let go until he finally shoved her away from him, the two sitting in the snow and gasping for air. She wiped her mouth. ' **Call them ' _things_ ' one more time**,' she signed.

The blonde's eyes flashed as if he somehow understood and he opened his mouth to speak, when suddenly he heard Pine's voice scream above the cascading all of water. " _YOU_!"

An innumerable amount of heads turned to look, some of those who were locked in an intense battle straightening or perking up in order to find the source of such a sound. The scene unfolded above and Krissa watched, glued in a gargoyle-like state, having paused mid-wipe of her mouth. Poppy scuffled in the snow, holding her bleeding mouth with a trembling paw, her large ashen eyes staring up in her brother in anguish. "THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS ..WHEN YOU TRUST.. A HUMAN!" Pine fumed, his voice bringing attention to those below, some distracted from their fighting while others continued on. "You _suffer_ , you.. _gripe_.. they trick you with their _stupid_ ways! THIS IS WHY ..WE SHOULD.. DESTROY THEM ALL! THEY DO NOTHING BUT KILL EVERYTHING THEY TOUCH!"

' **Brother** -' she pleaded.

"Your... brother? YOUR BROTHER, _ME_?" Pine marvelled, his raving continuing on. He forced a smile and chuckled roughly, ruptured eye continuing to ooze yet going unnoticed. It was as if he were in his own little world. He took a step closer, his rage mounting. "YOU HAVE.. BETRAYED _OUR_ FATHER- _BETRAYED_ KOBA, AND HAVE THE GUTS TO CALL ME FAMILY?!"

' **Pine is weak, killing others he once called family**!" their sister signed, doing her best to refrain from looking as meek as she really was. 'Krissa should not have stopped Slate. She made a mistake in letting you live.'

Pine's jaws snapped open, his animalistic nature bleeding through and showing his gruesome, malignant face. It was the first time that Krissa had ever truly viewed the apes as just a bunch of simple animals. The energy wafting off Pine was noxious, causing the ravenette's innards to squirm as the display continued to unfold. She had always been able to look past their primitive body-language, their posture, their appearance... but now, all she could see were two animals, one cowered beneath the other, a life at stake.

" _YOU_ ARE THE WEAK ONE!"

" _NO_!" Poppy barked, breaking her neat and tidy demeanour. Her coat began to rise, teeth bared and gleaming in the weak, watery sunshine that bled through the snow-choked clouds. Her older brother seemed to be taken aback by her sudden nerve, expressing brief tender emotion in his good eye before his brows lowered and he burned with the same intensity as before. ' **Father was wrong. _You_ are wrong! How could you possibly think that killing is right**?!'

The eldest twin didn't have a chance to speak any further, to say any last unjust words to his sister, nor get the opportunity to tear her apart. Before Poppy could finish shouting for her brother to stop, it was too late. Pine was struck, stood as still as a ghost, his body becoming as rigid as a board as he gaped up at the sky in consternation. The initially shock faded and the oppressor grabbed desperately for his throat, as if he could somehow dislodge the spear's head from where it protruded horrifically from his neck. Slate gradually rose to stand bipedal, rising from where he had crouched, his brother's gargling cries filling the air as he choked on the dark sanguine fluid that spilled from his neck and bathed his front.

Krissa blanched, all colour draining from her face and her body abruptly plunged into shock, shuddering against the temperature. A rasp of emotion broke from her lips and she choked back a sob. As agile as a bullet, the survivor shot to her feet and staggered forward. At first she made for the falls, but something washed over her that was stronger than Caesar himself. Turning to Jonas, the two frightened humans stared at one another in an ape-ruled wood. " _Go_ ," she urged. Originally Jonas simply started up at her, but when she urged him again, kicking snow at him, she watched the man scramble to his feet and race for the bushes, many of the leftover humans following closely in tow.

After watching his frame being swallowed up by the foliage and porcelain paint, the ravenette whirled around, racing for the rocks without another thought, trailed by Rocket and Cornelius who were just as desperate to get to the broken family's side. The entire ravine below, those injured and those still standing, all minded the scene above as it began to unfold one event after the other in dead silence. The woods were so, so quiet, as if completely uninhabited.

* * *

Eventually, with a wet, bloody cough and a convulsive jerk, Pine managed to slide off the end of the blade and into the water, oggling up at his brother with wide eyes, one obliterated and one turning glassy. "F-fini..sh.. it.." Pine croaked, barely audible to those holding their breath below. With trembling hands, both coated and dripping with thick strings of gore, he signed, ' **You. . . d . . o n ' t ... ha v e... the s tr e..ngth**...'

"S-Slate," whimpered Poppy. His distant gaze fell upon his shaking sister, spattered in the hot spray of her own brother's blood. Pine sputtered and choked further, viscid garnet pooling and bubbling at his lips. Slate tilted his head, much like a child when curious, and watched as his brother slowly bled out, apathetic as to how others were feeling in the moment. He was numb to the fact that his own flesh-and-blood was suffering right before his eyes. The yawning cavern that replaced his mutilated throat pulsed and throbbed ever so grotesquely, foam beginning to gather at the corners of his brother's maw. Poppy beseeched for him to end his suffering, but to no avail. "Slate, please... put him out of his misery."

' **You'll j.. ust... leave... m e he r e**...'

Taking a deep, moist inhale through his nostrils, he shook his head. "No..." he muttered. Reaching down, he wrapped his fingers within a water-dense swath of Pine's thick black hair and hoisted him up out of the water by his crown, soaked and growing weaker by the moment. His voice dropped low, down to something barely more than a whisper. " _I'm not like you_."

 _ **SSHHLCCKKKGHHH! Thlmp.**_

With one last swipe, Slate finished all the torment his brother had ever caused him, severing his head from his shoulders. Crimson exuded flagrantly out of the truncated stump that had once held Pine's grisly head, allowing the body to fall lifelessly to the ground, limbs still twitching and convulsing in a final salvo of nerves. The river ran red, the wall tumbling to the earth beneath turning a frothy shade of cherry and creating a blossom of deep, dark burgundy in the pool below. Realisation bowled into Slate with the force of a bullet the instant he gazed upon the head hanging from his bloodied clutch. Pine's eyes were sightless, lazily rolled back, and his mouth hung open, revealing a claret-soaked mouth. Blood oozed and dripped from the ragged cut along his neck, ribbons of flesh still hanging from both the weapon and the decapitated pate of his brother. The gruesome spoils of war; his arms and belly were slick, growing chilled by each growing torrent of air.

Beside him, his sister hid her face and sobbed, relieved that not only he was dead, but that it was finally over. Krissa had just reached the top of the canyon with Rocket and Milo at her side, the trio gawking at the sight before them. Slate turned to them, examining the pure dismay painted across their faces, and he felt his eyes burn, tears beginning to thicken in his throat. His brother was dead. He had killed his brother. He had vanquished the very male he had shared a womb with, right in front of the innocent attention of his younger sister. Was it just? Had he gotten what he had deserved? Or could Pine have been saved in the end? Could he have put him to rest in a more... merciful manner?

Slowly but surely, he turned toward those down below in the ravine, and revelled at those who were bowing and offering their hands in submission. The humans were gone, either laying amongst their own dead, or running for their lives. Something from way down deep inside him bubbled up, clawing its way up into his mouth and breaking free from his maw. It started in his guts at first and then reached his mouth, echoing out across the clear. It was a scream of aggression, of anger- a scream of anguish and emotion, and of triumph. It was over. Slate held up Pine's head for all to see. It was finally over...

The wind battered his body violently, snow gusting in tiny shards of glass that scraped his fingers and face and soaked frame, scoring through him and leaving him an empty carcass. The guilt suddenly crashed over him, as if it were a tidal wave, pulling him under the crashing waves. His fist tightened around Pine's coarse hair and he allowed his head to slowly drop, staring at the blossom of valentine that coiled gracefully in the glacier-cold beck.

He'd live with it every day for the rest of his life, but it was truly all worth it in the end. The future offered peace now that Koba's immortal spirit was finally no more.


	30. The Fracture (Chapter XXIX)

The sky had been dreary and grey all day, up until they had finally made it home. Cornelius was rushed to the Medicine tree, bleeding heavily from a stab wound he had been given during the heated clash, his limp obvious each time he would take a step across the village. The Shamans took good care of those who were hurt, and with Krissa there to help, things just felt right again. Slate spent most of the night after having the bullet in his shoulder removed, the process taking hours of excruciating pain and digging. Afterwards, in the waning hours of dusk, Slate stiffly submerged himself under the steady stream of brook-fed water, allowing the tumbling water to be cut off from its usual connection to the mouth of water below as it collided with the top of his head. He leaned his cranium back and embraced the icy cold. Slowly but surely, the crystalline flow turned a faint shade of ghastly rust; with the assistance of the ravenette he cared for so much, he gradually became clean, her hands working across his muscular frame, removing what she could. Her touch was so relaxing after such a long, horrible afternoon that he sighed deeply every now and then as she went along.

The glue-like gore that soaked his abdomen and arms washed away, disappearing over the pool's edge and falling into the trees below, landing out of sight within the valley. By time Krissa had finished up her job, her teeth were chattering and she herself had stains of garnet upon her hands that seemed to be ground into the lines of her hands and digits. Whether the blood had been from his limbs or from her own personal battles, he didn't know. He simply followed the young woman where ever she took him, walking numbly, deaf to those around him. He looked to her for guidance, for comfort, much like a child would from another female after losing his mother. An odd comparison when speaking about siblings, sure, but it had to be the closest connect he could make.

By time they were inside of the hut, the two curled up, each on their own moss-and-stick nest, the soft deer skins beneath and over top of them keeping them well-insulated for the long, cold night to come. They spent perhaps the span of a half an hour before he heard the pelts part on the other side of the room and felt the young woman's weight press into the other side of the bedding. His eyes, wide awake now, opened, finding her face only a few inches away, just as close as she had slept to him the evening after he had told her all about Koba's short and horrible story. It finally felt right, that night, as they entwined their hands and looked at one another, carefully studying each other's faces as if it would be the last time they would see each other. Krissa whispered to him something as they drifted off, something he hadn't caught.

They stretched out their limbs, pulling the hide back and preparing for the day to begin, when she stood, sighed, combed her hands through her hair and then laced her fingers together in order to cradle the back of her neck. "I'm proud of you," she groaned, arching her back and cracking it in a few places. Her slim head turned upon its joint to face him and he studied the swelling outline of her blackened eye, surrounded by a dark ring of violet and accented with the faintest shade of green and sickly yellow. It looked almost like some sort of grotesque form of war-paint. "For taking a stand. For doing what you did."

Slate, in response, simply grunted in his throat and walked to the entrance of their now-shared hut, listening to the faint call of a loon from the lake off in the distance. If it hadn't been him, it surely would have been someone else. The fact that Cornelius had left Pine to him had been both a privilege and a great burden, for as the evening before the battle would approach closer, he had found it harder and harder to get to sleep. ' **It's over now** ,' he signed sorely, trying to ignore how his arm screamed in protest with each tiny movement. ' **That's what matters**.'

"Still," the raven beauty uttered, her voice low and soft in her throat. Her feet scuffled as she stepped closer, coming to hover beside him. Her hot breath reached the back of his uninjured shoulder and he felt her limbs snake around his waist, earning a slight prickle of heat that shot up his spine as she drew him close. Perhaps he had become desensitised from being alone and untouched for so long. Slate sighed, relaxing slightly at her touch and allowing his hand to snake up, caressing her own. "I'm sure it wasn't... _easy_."

No, it hadn't been easy. What hadn't been easy either was not being able to turn to Krissa and tell her how much he loved her in that moment. The words ached to come, burning their way up his throat, yet he swallowed them and put them back to rest, just as he had done with his brother. He needn't ruin this. At least, not here. Not in this moment, not right now. The chinobo pulled away from her and pressed on into the village, finding his way over to one of the fire-pits. He stiffly gathered wood, beginning to build himself a little pyre, and then he struck a stone. The wood smouldered at first until flames began to grow, whatever drier material he could find being placed on top to feed the fire instead of smother it.

Content with the warmth, he took a deep breath in and then allowed it to slowly seep from between his lips, eyes squeezing shut as he revelled in the feeling of the moment. Everything felt right, or it should have in that moment at least. The warrior gently shifted his weight, warming his hands in front of the crackling hearth before him, trying to wake up his sore, weary bones.

The sound of movement drew his eyes open, taking in the lumbering form of Maurice as he crossed the village-square. He looked just about as exhausted as he, long auburn arms reaching and then pulling him forward, his short hind legs and his behind thumping gently with each stride. For once Slate welcomed him, shuffling over a half step before curling inward again, trying to contain as much warmth as he possibly could. Pine and he had taught one another to do this while up in the mountains. Pain shot through him at the thought of how his twin brother, the only male he regarded as his equal, had once been.

Regarding one another, they nodded simultaneously in a silent greeting, then turned toward the flickering warmth before them. It was quiet in the village as opposed to how it had been before the battle, those who were deceased being grieved for in silence. They had quite a few bodies to bury, to burn... Slate felt his heart beat palpitate, squeezing down hard before bouncing back to its usual shape. His eyes drifted up, watching those nursing their wounds, speaking with others in hushed tones and muted sign. The dark grey ape's attention then found Rocket, Nova and Krissa, the three settled together around their own fire.

Maurice burbled softly in order to get his attention. ' **You fought bravely** ,' he remarked with a graceful tilt of his auburn-tufted chin. He didn't _feel_ brave. He hadn't felt brave, laying in the water and bleeding out slowly from a bullet wound, his brother above him as he preached and snarled. If perhaps he meant when he had finally put an end to the battle, he could more or less see where he was coming from. If he were so brave, then why did Slate feel as if he had just committed murder, committed a crime? Why did it leave a sour note in his stomach?

' **Thank you** ,' he motioned flatly in return, bulking his shoulders against the brisk wind. His eyes proceeded to wash over the clear, latching onto Krissa's bundled frame as she sat beside the dusty-grey lieutenant, the two chatting calmly back and forth. Rocket had grown fond of her after she had defended Mist, Poppy and the children back in the summer, having come to trust her within the span of a few days. She had earned it, after doing her damnedest to save young Twig. The confrontation had become a distant memory, he found, as he looked back on that horribly solemn day.

Slate shifted and hissed softly under his breath. ' **Your sister wishes to sleep in the Medicine Tree until she can face you again,** ' Maurice pointed out, the two of them glancing simultaneously up at the tree. The orang to his right huffed through his slim nostrils. ' **We're giving her all the time she needs**.'

' **Good** ,' he responded, keeping his words short and simple. His limbs felt about ready to fall off from the beating he had taken at his brother's hand. ' **Let her be**.'

He sincerely hoped that she would stay away long enough to give him time just as well: he wasn't quite sure, after all, if he could bring himself to do it either. Poppy was his dearest sister, someone he wished to cherish forever, but right now he felt as if she had broken an unspoken barrier by betraying them in the first place. He had so many questions. Had it all been to fool Pine? To gain his trust and then stab him in the back? Or had it simply been out of fear? It certainly couldn't have been her own decision- at least, not that he was aware of. She had never viewed humans like he had.

' **Have you been by to see Milo**?'

These damn questions were beginning to take tiny nips and chunks out of his nerves, slowly uncoiling them by the minute. Was it so wrong that he wanted to be left alone? ' **I have not, no** ,' he disclosed, shifting to his feet and adding to the hungry flames. Nose twitching, Slate eyed the male beside him, trying to ward him off a tight glower. If he were being snappish, then perhaps he would leave him be. How hard was it to pick up on someone's mood? ' **What would he have to say anyway**?'

Maurice simply looked at him, as if examining his very soul. Slate wished he could say that the bornean had no power over him, but something about the way his beady olive tones scored caused him to feel the need to move away, as if he were being examined from the inside out. The chinobo, in the state that he was in, not only felt uncomfortable, but somewhat intimidated by how insightful the male suddenly appeared. Did he know something, once again, that he didn't? ' **He knew your father, before the human labs** ,' the savant unveiled, gaze remaining welded to his mask of sable and graphite. ' **He's asked after you quite a few times since our arrival**.'

Slate's heart hiccuped and his cranium craned in order to pick out the chimpanzee, his hat sticking out among the shades of brown, black and grey like a sore thumb. He had rarely known apes to wear human clothes, aside from Bad Ape. That purple vest of his had always made his eyes burn. Remembering how the air-headed primate had set out with his newly-found mate to start their own family brought back bitter memories. His cognac dyads found Milo, and realising that he had been watching him this entire time, Slate suddenly felt as if he were trapped beneath his senior's foot. He looked rough and worn, the older ape surely more experienced than he.

"Why don't..." Maurice suddenly suggested, his rumbling speech a rarity for one to hear. His voice was as deep and dark as coffee, as wide and broad as a cavern, the sound something one could get lost in. Nonetheless, he was unable to tear his fixed gaze from Milo, the two submersed within an intense stare-down. "..you go speak to him."

Torpidly rising to his quads, the simian took a few paces forward before a question spilled from his lips, uncontrolled. Slate turned his head around and laid his eyes on Maurice one last time. "Was Koba ever.. in love with our mother?"

Maurice expressed surprise, brows once heavy nearly shooting straight off his pate. There was a brief pause, the bornean mulling over Slate's inquiry, a deep sigh escaping him. ' **I believe so, at some point in time** ,' he replied carefully. The torrent that gusted against the mountain-side whistled harshly, flakes of snow fluttering like fallout. ' **He loved you and your siblings more**.'

' **What about**...?'

' **Mary**?' his company speculated, eyes gleaming sadly. His spirits seemed to have wilted like a flower in the hot July sun. Tentatively nodding, Slate remained still, one paw coming to press into the stone and snow beneath him. It was cold to the touch, almost numbing. ' **That, even I do not know**.'

The answer he was given was fairly unsubstantial, but instead of prying on matters that may very well destroy his already aching heart-strings, he rose and began to carefully plod across camp. He headed directly for Milo, who straightened up the instant that he realised that his friend's son was approaching. It gave him at least some confidence. Whether he should trust this male or not, he was unsure. Could he be lying? Well, how could a complete stranger know who his father was? Nic could have perhaps told him. Oh, the poor man. He had originally hadn't been much of a fan, but the more time he had spent with the male survivor, the more he had grown to trust in him. He had done all he could in his power to keep Krissa alive... it was no wonder to him when he had discovered later the evening before that he had told the ravenette of his feelings just before he was shot.

' **You look so much like him** ,' Milo suddenly signed, bringing his thoughts to a roaring stop. He paused, sinewy limb raised in mid-stride, eyes latched to his elder with a look of disgruntlement. He had often seen it, from memory, that he looked similar to his biological father. The genetics his mother had to offer was what gave him his build and his size, but his dark complexion, smoother features and near inky coat were a clear indication of his bonobo DNA.

Milo looked fond rather than bitter now, his stingy expression having fallen away and given way to more friendly energy. It came off him in waves, which admittedly startled him, seeing as just moments ago he had felt as if he were walking towards a fight. Slate, cautious now and ready to take more an offence to whatever else he had to say, stepped lightly and settled down across from him. He only hoped that the male knew what was good for him. ' **My brother was the one who had lost sight in his left eye, not me**...' he deadpanned, trying his best to understand why exactly this male connected him so closely to his father. It honestly made his skin crawl.

Milo glanced up toward the heavens in amusement. His head dipped slightly to the side, the tuft of fur sticking out from beneath his cap rustling in the breeze. ' **Just as blunt as him too**.' Something about the way his eyes pinched in amusement made Slate feel relatively trapped, as if he were surrounded by a net, simply by gazing at the newcomer's brown eyes. ' **His eyes were the same colour as yours, back when he was alive**.' Attention floating to the side in thought, he shrugged one large, hairy shoulder. ' **That was before... Tommy**.'

Tommy? What was this old twit talking about? Slate's head tilted and he narrowed his persimmon set, trying to make sense of the male's jumble of words. Had Milo lost a few brain cells yesterday? He just couldn't wrap his mind around it. ' **Tommy**?' he echoed. The stranger expressed sadness, something deep inside him that echoed only pain and suffering. He looked as if he had seen what waited on the other side of life, as if he had been through the gates of hell and lived to tell about it. Slate felt obligated to apologise, his own mask of disgruntlement giving way to something softer.

' **A bad man** ,' he replied shortly, gaze turning to the rest of the village and watching the females putter along the dogwood's bark, searching hungrily for insects sleeping beneath the bark. They weren't having much luck. Slate shifted uncomfortably, scratching at his side and raising an arm. It felt as if something were missing from his home, now that Pine was gone and the tension had subsided. There were still Pine's followers they had to track down and decide whether to keep them in their colony or exile them to the desert. The humans, on the other hand, were a whole different story.

Milo sniffed, fingers twitching. Slate's eyes found his hands, then his face. Instead of using ape sign, the chimpanzee spoke to him, voice gravelly and worn out. It suited him, his face drawn from many nights without sleep, many days beneath the sun. "I'm sorry if I.. insulted.. you."

Was he supposed to feel insulted? He had to wonder, how much did he remind him- remind everyone- of Koba? Perhaps he could see it in Pine, but in his case, what was it that others saw that they had once seen in his father? Slate leaned forward and curled his toes against the cold earth beneath, mulling this over in his mind. Did they see it in the way he carried himself? His stature, his movements, his posture? Was it the custom mould of his face, or the way his eyes broke skin and drew blood each time they looked at someone? Was it in the way he hunted, his determination? His temper... perhaps it was his temper. The ideas stuck to the inside of his head like cotton to damp flesh. Slate huffed and rose to his knuckles, his body feeling heavier than it had ever felt before, as if he were heaving himself across parched earth with a corpse on his back, as if he hadn't drank water nor seen a meal in weeks.

He needed air.

Even despite how Milo stood, just the same, mirroring his actions, Slate pressed forward and headed for the nearest exit, traipsing his way down the beaten lane and moving in a cumbersome fashion. He passed stumps and snow-painted moss, the snow crunching loudly beneath his heels. The male stood bipedal, remembering how he and his brother would sneak out while everybody was asleep and go explore. He recalled how they would dance across the forest floor, chasing one another in a heated battle of their own, ending in a bundle of apeish giggles and hoots. If Slate could only steal those memories and bring them back to fruition, bring back those simple times and freeze each moment, just so he could live them over and over again... perhaps then he would be content.

Brushing past alabaster-choked bushes and undergrowth, he removed a burr or two from his coat apathetically, moving deeper into the wintry scenery surrounding him. He wanted to go back to when Pine had just been himself, back before his brother had lost his mind and his sister had pitifully followed him like a frightened little mouse. If he could, he would make sure he had never been born in the first place. His chest felt hollow, each heartbeat drumming painfully against his ribs. Why had it ended this way? Slate crumbled.

Tearing a branch free from the body of a small cedar sapling, he took to his knees and bowed his head, breathing in the musty earth and the damp snow. A chill skated up his spine, shoulders shaking as he held back the snarls of grief that begged and demanded to be released. He remained hunched over for a few moments before his cranium tilted up, burning embers seizing the thicket ahead of him. He pushed on through the snow, a soft sprinkling of snow dusting across his coat of adumbrate onyx, fine and pure, like sugar.

The struggle downhill didn't take long once he took to the trees. Ambling up the nearest pine, he swung himself ahead, his speed increasing greatly seeing as he was travelling downhill. The land eventually levelled out, giving way to rough and craggy earth, as if split open by the hand of Caesar himself. Slate paused, dangling from the branch above his sullen head. He could feel his eyes burn, understanding where he was subconsciously taking himself. Perhaps it was only just. His journey continued, listening to the wind whistle mournfully through the trunks and branches. Somewhere in the distant stretch of silva came the drilling of a woodpecker, stabbing at the inside of his ears and the delicate matter of his brain.

Finally, hands sore and arms wrung, Slate arrived and descended, hitting the ground with a lusty huff. Snow scattered, sent into the air upon disturbance, and waltzed back down to rest upon the ground once more. Spring would surely be muddy, given the heavy snow they had gotten as of late. His wounded shoulder ached from the strain of travel, yet he ignored it, his heavy pants creating plumes of vapour as they exited his lips and nostrils. The numerous, cluttered pines broke apart and gave way to a small dell. A heaping mound of upturned roots and gnarled tree trunks filled the surrounding expanse, an ancient pine tree careening slightly to the south located near the centre, the above-ground rhizome at its most congested to its left.

Slate hovered, his stomach becoming unwell at the sight of the monumental scene. Crystallised flakes floated in one continuous, powdery shower, falling to the ground and adding to the growing drifts that coated every single limb, every single branch and every single needle. The benumbed male slowly plodded through the snow over toward his brother's grave, coming to a stop before the corpse could even come into view at a mere glimpse. It was covered well, hidden from the elements. The stag skull's rack that he had so proudly worn in his last few days alive was hanging above upon a stunted branch, the antlers splaying out imposingly.

He swallowed, a broken sound resonating within his throat. "What do I do.. now?" he spoke senselessly. He knew that Pine couldn't hear him, nor would he ever hear anything anymore. It was preposterous to imagine that his words would reach him, yet he could not still his wagging tongue. He could no longer deny the need to speak to him, be him dead or alive. Slate's voice was raw and ragged within his vocal chords, reflecting what he truly felt inside without relent. He felt as if he were lacerated and bleeding, much like how Pine had left Krissa the eve he had disappeared. "Poppy won't.. sleep or eat. Krissa is .. weak. Nic is dead. Others? Who knows..."

His neck craned skyward and he watched delicate down fall from the silver stretch frescoed aloft. "Apes have died.. because of you. Because of your ways.." he grated out, pate levelling out once again. His eyes traced the sickeningly beautiful spectacle laid out around him. "I've.. put an end.. to father, to you. It's over." Slate looked at his hands, fingers curling inward, clutching the air like he would an invisible sphere. His digits, his limbs- they itched and crawled, as if the stains of blood would not disappear. He still noticed the crimson that still remained, his fingertips and nail-beds discernibly sullied even despite how dusky his skin was.

"I can still feel your... blood. I wanted to feel it for the.. longest.. time." The words bit from his jaws, as if he were spatting out rotten food. "Does that make me any better.. than him? Than the .. both of you?"

Slate exhaled, his breath coming out in one long, trembling string. The only answer he received was the remote birdsong, somewhere off in the woods. The hoarse cry of a raven rose above the chatter, but only briefly. His chin tilted down and his lips parted, canines tickled by the chill. A footfall in the snow alerted him to the fact that he had been followed. His head dropped languidly and he sighed. The chinobo squeezed his eyes shut, trying to stop the faintest hint of brine that leaked down his long face. The crunching footsteps came to a stop. Slate felt horribly exposed to the elements. If he turned from where he had had his back bared and faced whom was behind him, would he find another illusion, another spirit?

"Slate..." Krissa's voice filled the space. His lids clamped down harder and he braced himself. She approached closer, each pace harsh against his sensitive ears. Before he could move himself from where he was welded down, she was there in an instant, calmly standing at his side. The two of them both looked earnestly at Pine's grave. Her head turn and so did his. The moment her virid eyes found him, her face dropped. Her voice dropped to a whisper, pity evident in the way she formed her words. "Oh, _Slate_.."

He retracted himself, tearing himself out of wounded state and growling, turning a shoulder in his direction. They seemed to both be unable to speak in that moment, the snow-induced hush that had fallen upon the woods filling the rift. "I heard what you said..." she mumbled. Slate's head proceeded to shake. "I... I don't think you're like him." No, she didn't understand. She would never understand- no words could _help_ her understand! "I know I never saw how he was, or how he acted, but Pine was enough to.. to show me what it was like. What.. your father was-"

He quickly whirled on her, causing her to stagger back slightly. "You have no idea," he growled, striding forward and brushing past her.

"What could possibly make you like him?" Krissa demanded, now growing just as upset. He had agitated her, it was clear by how her voice strained. Slate didn't know whether it was because he had spoken so callously or because she was genuinely finding his own agony painful. "What proof do you have? You protected me.. protected your home, your.. family. You fought for apes, not yourself." The outcross stopped. Every nerve willed him to snap her in two, to ruin her, to make her cry. His head remained hung. This, what he felt, was his evidence.

"I.. am his son. I have his blood," he elucidated plainly. Slate turned, partially bent at the waist and placing a hand upon his chest. ' **I wear his face. I carry his spear, his legacy**!'

Krissa's hands cut through the air like two knives, signing ingenuously. ' **It's simply what you look like, Slate, not who you are**!' Her finger jabbed her own breastbone and the rim of her clavicle, her head shaking vigorously. ' **In here**.'

If only he weren't hurting this way, maybe he would find her determination touching. Reaching out, the ravenette grasped hold of his arm, guiding him as carefully as she could toward her. Startled, his stomach flipped several times over and he tried his best to wriggle free, evidently staggering to the side and yanking until she could no longer keep her hands on him. "Let go," he warned, his voice rumbling in his chest. Every inch within him shrieked for him to get away from her, to be left alone to wallow in his own grief. ' **There are things you just don't understand** -'

"You aren't _Koba_ , Slate!" she insisted, pivoting on one ankle and placing a hand on his shoulder before he could escape. He fell still. "You stopped your brother, you risked your life, took a bullet, so why..." Krissa's hot breath hit the air as she let out an exasperated laugh, rolling over the back of his neck like a cloud of smoke. Her head shook in his peripheral vision. "Why can't you accept that you aren't and never will be _him_?"

"Because," he uttered, contused.

The girl finally lost her temper. "Because _why_?!"

Slate wrenched away from her grasp and smacked her away with one swing of his limb. "Because I fell in _love_ with you!"

They stared at one another. Dread washed over him, his legs growing uncomfortably weak. The words had ignited his throat and left his tongue scorched beyond repair, charred and alien within his mouth. His jaws parted, then shut, unable to find the proper method to repair whatever undying friendship they had had that he had just broken open and spilled in front of them. Panic filled his insides like a twisting worm and he swallowed hard, raising his hands. Again, he tried out those words, completely bared before her and appropriately prepared to be wounded by her decline.

' **I love you** ,' he signed. ' **I love you like he loved Mary**.'

Krissa was visibly shaking. Reaching out, Slate let out a soft keening sound. She took a step back. "Did..." she began, a little unsure of herself. "Did Pine know?" The primate's eyes grew wider, peeling open and exposing his glistening scleras. Why was she thinking of that now? Was she blaming herself? The very idea caused the anger to distend behind his gaze.

' **Is that why he**...?' The question decayed and then disintegrated. He couldn't tell what she was feeling, his heart pounding in his ears as he waited for it to sink in. It had already hit him. The ravenette's hand found her throat, fingers dancing across the scarred tissue ever so gently. Extending his grasp once more, he lowered himself in apology and then made contact with her arm. Krissa flinched and gasped softly, but allowed him to curl his fingers around her wrist and pull her into a tight embrace.

"I had hoped.. you were alive, that you had lived," he murmured into his shoulder. His fingers dug into her coat and held it captive, gathered in his calm in a crumpled mess. "He just about.. took you from me." A sudden sob wracked through her lean, long body and she nodded, burying her face into his neck. The feeling was familiar yet felt so sudden and so new that it took him a moment to process. The overwhelming need to protect Krissa crashed over him like a tidal wave and he shook his head. "I don't know.. what I would have done if he.. had succeeded." He breathed. "If I had lost you."

Slowly the two of them came undone, ending up at their knees in the snow, clutching onto one another. It was almost as if, should they let go of one another, they would be sucked into the earth below and be buried alive, the fear driving them to hold one another for such a long time. They finally pulled away from one another and Krissa butted his head with her own, nuzzling him tenderly. Raising a hand, he gazed at her lips and chin with hooded fiery embers, allowing her own paw to press flat against and then lace with his own. Their interlocked phalanges fell to their side. He came unhinged, releasing all he had been holding in, head pushing into her chest in order to seek further comfort.

Snow blustered around them, hissing as it whisked across the frozen surface of the small clearing. He briefly felt Krissa's lips pressed against the top of his head, hands slithering up to caress either of his ears before comfortably sliding down to his back. She kissed his forehead, the top of his crown, her nose coming to inhume there permanently. Her fingers traced circles upon the base of his neck, careful to avoid the inflamed flesh just below. Everything seemed to pour out of him as she hummed a song, a song that he had never heard her sing before, crooning ever so softly that it only urged his emotions to spill further.

The world could have ended again and they wouldn't have known.


	31. The Journey (XXX)

The dark shape of a primate sat comfortably upon a lone leaning tree against a pale cerise sky, staring out at the lapping shore and the distant over-grown frame of the Golden Gate Bridge. Below was a young woman, dressed in fresh jean shorts and a shirt of the palest blue, her feet bare and her shoes settled beside her in the sand. A small fire smouldered away, dying to embers, the second chimp beside her finishing the remnants of their breakfast. Their journey had been long and tiring, yet they had persisted instead of turning around, the three finding that gazing upon the long-abandoned and empty city in the distance to be enough of a reward. The girl looked up at the male outcross, gazing wistfully off at the towering skyscrapers and the decimated windows. It wouldn't be long before they reached the end of their journey and went through with the duty they had come to fulfil.

Winter had come and passed, the newly-devised Island Colony finding that adjusting to their new home hadn't been so difficult in the long run. In fact, with travel across the lake becoming easier thanks to the boats that Molly had left behind, it had been almost too easy. Krissa, of course, had to teach the apes to steer and sail, but in spite of this, Slate watched his small tribe grow and adapt with little trouble. They listened to her, and they followed her just as they would any leader. He often found himself reflecting on her ceremony and final acceptance into their ranks, back in the frigid days of sleet and gales that often tended to whip up around the lake. It felt like a distant memory, their courtship following his confession only natural for the two of them. Liepa had become something of an adoptive child to the two of them, despite Slate's original discomfort toward the idea. There was no possible way that Krissa could bear his young- it was simple. They were from two different species, regardless of how closely related they were in kind.

The chinobo wondered, at times, whether this saddened the ravenette, yet never saw any sort of damper in her mood when they would come to discuss it. Liepa was enough for her, which made him happy. It wasn't entirely easy in other segments of their relationship either: the two of them were both hard-headed and prone to arguments, but in the end they would turn to each other in the evening and whisper about the times before. She'd make him laugh, or he'd make her smile, or they'd say nothing at all and simply hold one another, silently apologising. He found himself opening up to her completely, like a blossom finally coming to fruition, spilling everything whether he intended to or not. Some things came in blips, some in pools of ink, ever growing. Krissa saw his insecurities and she made the best of them, and in turn he tried his best to do so just the same. They were different, yet they worked like clock-work together.

It wasn't until one evening, back in early spring, that he had sat her down and discussed the topic of his father again. Krissa had crossed her legs and listened, eyes trained on him like two pits of glittering jade, intelligent and thoughtful. Her silence was appreciated. When he had finally allowed her to ask questions, they had been careful and well thought-out. She then brought up the topic of Mary, the woman's name scoring through him in one quick, cold, gouging claw. Maurice had told her everything, to his horror and disbelief, and she had hid that knowledge from him. Slate had been hurt by the fact that she hadn't let him know of this, but as she explained himself, he began to slowly understand. Granted, it had taken him a few days to come to terms with it, of course.

The afternoon it had finally understood, it had hit him hard, harder than any rutting buck. Slate had been alone, examining his father's spear while resting against the tree opposite of Krissa's father's rifle. The eldest outcross had focused upon the strands of auburn woven around its handle, along with the band of woven cloth he had tied back around it in loving memory, its violet and gold colour damaged and faded from years of blanching. Pine had taken the path that his father had _without_ the severe heartbreak as added fuel. He had charged into the fray guns ablaze with nothing but only a sense of pure, ardent rage. Not only did he realised this, but Slate remembered Mary. He remembered her funeral. He remembered the mud and the rain.

For the briefest moment, he wondered what he would have done if he had followed that exact path; if history had repeated itself. It had, in its own unique way. The idea of having to bury Krissa, the idea of never seeing her face ever again, her electric gaze alive and glistening with life- it sent him back home, straight to her open arms. She hadn't been expecting him to bury his face into her neck, to breathe in her scent and relish it as if he had been apart from her for millennia. Slate even surprised himself when he had dragged her off to shower her in attention until she was breathless, to groom and braid her hair and to simply hold her.

That night he had woken up out of a dead sleep and laid eyes upon her face, peacefully and still. He remembered how fearful she had been of him when they had first ran into one another. In truth, he had been just as apprehensive. It hadn't been easy for him to come to trust her- not until he had seen her worth, her strength and her kindness that fateful day of their first hunt. Slate could replay it over and over again inside of his head and he would never lose interest in the way her arms and shoulders had moved when she would draw her weapon, nor in how dark her eyes had been when she had pulled him back to his feet before he could fall into the rapids that crashed and hissed hungrily around them. They had been in their own little world, it had seemed, that day. No soul would bother them, no animal or creature could top them, no natural force could separate them. From dawn until late afternoon they had worked together as a team, they had ran, they had hunted.

His breath had stirred her curls as he had pressed a kiss upon the top of her head, a soft and very sleepy sigh sounding in her throat as she settled closer to him. Something in the back of his mind suddenly stirred, and after a while of staring off into the inky black, the chinobo had made a decision. His eyes fell shut after some time.

Slate had told her he needed to return to his father's resting place during breakfast the next morning, and she had just about choked on her meal. **_'Are you sure?'_** she had signed, gaping at him. Liepa, confused, looked between the two of them. _ **'That's days from here.'**_

 _ **'It's something I have to do,**_ ' he replied, head bobbing. His brows remained lowered, amber eyes resting confidently upon her emerald set. Obviously she doubted that it was a good idea. She had a point: the journey would be far from easy and it would take him nearly an entire moon cycle to get there, yet something inside him dragged him to the city in the south, back to the place he had been born. _**'I'll have to visit Cornelius and Maurice, see what they have to say.'**_

Krissa had looked at him for a moment longer and sighed, shaking her head. She had said nothing more, eating in silence, although he could tell that the gears in her head were turning violently. She was upset with him, or, at least, unimpressed.

Maurice and the Ape Counsel were just as confused by his preposition. The prince implored that he remain home- his colony was small, after all, and still adjusting to their new home. Children were being born, coming-of-age ceremonies were going to need to be performed sooner than later, whether they were for apprentices or for those becoming fully-fledged hunters and scouts. It hadn't been until later that evening, while settled around the smouldering hearth and preparing to turn in for the night, that Rocket had asked his true reason for wanting to return.

 _ **'To pay respects to Caesar,'** _he had signed. It was his best excuse: most leaders would want to visit their king's resting place, so what made this any different?

Rocket had been sceptical. **_'Seems more than wanting to see Caesar's grave,'_ **he had cajoled, offering a slight sniff and a smirk. Slate felt as if he could see right through him, yet held his ground as always. _ **'Why want to travel that far?'**_

 _ **'Visiting home, returning to roots-'**_

 _ **'You are always a bad liar!'**_

Needless to say, it hadn't gone over well with the lieutenant whatsoever.

Rocket had insisted that he tell Cornelius, as well as that he lead them to San Francisco. Although it had been unwanted company on his journey, he had found that it had been incredibly useful, for he would have surely been lost and would have never returned home. At least, that is, he wouldn't have returned home alive. Krissa, on the other hand, had sweet-talked her way into go, her understanding of the city coming into play as well, seeing as she had grown up for a good portion of her life there. Somehow Slate, being the leader of his own blasted colony and a fully-fledged warrior, had been swayed by a pair of shamrock eyes.

Ridiculous.

Nonetheless, she read to them until they were all asleep, no matter the time or weather. It had kept their spirits up along the way. From snowball fights on the cliffs to swimming in the waterfall deep in the Muir Woods, it had all been worth it.

The small group meandered into the crumbling city in one wary clump, each exploring on their own as they travelled one-by-one. They passed street cars still attached to cables, ivy and other plants smothering every single shop and building in view. Window panes were shattered and cracked, dust coating every surface within untouched stores and human homes. Trees grew tall and proud along sidewalks and out of car windows, twisting and shaping naturally in order to swallow the city, little by little, up into its starving jaws. The earth was taking back what was rightfully her own. Slate was proud.

Rocket lead the way, down along the broken roads, stepping around chunks of blasted asphalt and stray tires, kicking pieces of newspaper out of the way that had been reduced to plaster upon the road and then dried in the hot summer sun. Krissa stuck close, but gaped widely at the memorable changes that had taken place during her absence. It was oddly concerning when Slate noticed how her eyes welled with tears, pausing near the rusted hinges of a broken door, long since destroyed during pillaging. Everything was falling to pieces around them with each growing day. It broke her heart, he could see it in her anger-drawn face. With a reassuring hand, he pulled her away and their journey continued.

It took them perhaps two hours to find their final destination.

Slate went in alone. The underground was caved in, so he climbed up the broken and mangled building, once a towering frame, now crushed like a piece of paper. Inside the carnage was a gap, an opening, big enough for a body to fit through. His stomach pitched as he took note of the deep, dark streak of crimson that stained the concrete platform beneath his feet. Slate eased his way carefully through the mutilated iron, its orange paint now completely replaced by rust. A few feet from the gap was another deep gouge below. He paused, gazing hard into the orifice in front of him, picturing his biological father spending his last moments crawling pitifully to die somewhere safe.

He then took a deep breath and crouched, climbing beneath the ferrous tomb.

The bones were as white as the moon, pale and sickening, curled in a final, painful position of sleep. Slate reached up and out of the crevice, retrieving Koba's spear and pulling it inside with himself. He sat there in the mouth of the entrance for the longest time, up until his tailbone grew numb and he didn't think his chest could grow any heavier. He sat and thought, thinking about the most distant memories of Koba and how he had treated he and his siblings. Once he felt nothing, once his thoughts ran still, the chinobo turned his head slowly and looked upon the bones one last time. With a steady hand and an flush of closure, Slate dragged his right hand up the shaft of his weapon and untied the band of cloth that Mary had left behind so long ago.

He untied it, rose and approached his father's body. One more long look, and he leaned down, draping the old, tattered material across the skull's gaping, empty eye sockets. His fingers hovered, resting upon what would have once been his father's glabella and his eyelids pressed shut. An ache passed through him, one last wave of pain.

Slate let go, and when he returned to his home on the lake, he never looked back.


	32. Fin - Thank you

After this long, hard year of ups and downs, I find myself at the end of this fantastic and emotion novel. Slate and Krissa's journey has been an entire gut-flipping roller coaster for me, and I sure hope it has been the same for you. When I posted _**The Simian Forest**_ back last January, I never expected it to become so popular (whether here or on Wattpad). I thought the exact opposite would happen, if I'm going to be completely honest. I will most likely continue to go along proof reading, correcting, and editing, but then again, what writer doesn't? There comes a point in time where I'll have to let this story be, and finally raise that white flag.

(Until then, I'll just sit here while I sob into my box of tissues because I've finally finished this beautifully heartbreaking story.)

The _Planet of the Apes_ series has been an obsession for me since I was, well, probably eleven years old. I just loved the concept, fell in love with the stories and everything in between. When _Rise of the Planet of the Apes_ came out in 2011, I found myself dragged right back into the fandom I had loved so, so much. My idea started after I had watched _Dawn_ , fresh out of the theatre, and when I finally got around to posting it later on that winter after I had spent some time up at my family's cottage.

Funny enough, once _Bird Box_ had come out this year, the cinematography during the river scenes and the overall apocalyptic vibe gave me the kick in the behind I needed in order to finally get where I wanted to. (Again, I read the book when I was eleven and I loved it. I'm currently reading every chance I get in a day!)

Between a massive fall out with my friends and my slow recovery after an abusive relationship, this book has been my literal blood, sweat and tears. I found the words just poured out of me each time I sat down to write... but with the beginning of a new job and other things on my plate, I had to put finishing The Simian Forest on the back-burner for a while. I became distracted by other fandoms I was passionate about and used it to keep my writing hand steady, until finally I was ready and came back with a whopping four more chapters.

Then I sealed it with lots of clues that tie back to the prequel. (Surprise?) I think I mentioned that a book was in the works that followed Koba and Mary's story. Regardless of how quickly I'll post it, updates may be slow, but I'll try my best to get out as much as I possibly can. I hope that you became as emotionally attached to this story as I did, and I hope that you follow the entire story line once _**Human Work**_ is posted.

And with that short little ramble and brief announcement, I must leave you, _mes amies!_

Every story continues- not one single story has an eternal end. Each generation retells, recalls, and remembers. Your memory will never die, no matter how insignificant you feel your life may have been. I hope that the message of this story instils this in your mind.

 **Adieu,**

 _Bleu Tenille._


End file.
